Changing
by Araine10
Summary: Merle can feel his life slipping away. Memories come flashing forward. Including those from a time when everything abruptly changed for Merle. Losing his hand, his brother, and possibly his sanity. However, it is during this time he comes across Mitch, a broken woman with nothing left to lose, and Merle starts to question all that he once knew. Explicit language and sex.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Merle could feel his life slowly starting to slip away. As he lay there coughing up blood, feeling his body getting colder and colder as the inevitable approached, memories of his long life flashed before his eyes.

He sees her lying in the bed. Her long brown hair in an unruly mess. She looks exhausted, pale, with dark bags underneath her stunning blue eyes. An all too rare smile lights up her face, "Merle come and meet your baby brother Daryl," she says as she beckons him toward the bed, holding out the sleeping newborn.

"I don't wanna. I don't like 'im," seven year old Merle pouts. He hears the squeak of the easy-chair as it abruptly becomes empty, footsteps falling on the old hardwood floors getting closer and closer. He braces himself for what is coming and sure enough, a cold hard hand swats the back of his head.

"Ya better damn well like 'im," Pop slurs, mid-afternoon and already sloshed, "He's ya baby brotha and it's your damn job to look after him for the rest of ya life." Tears spring to Merle's eyes as he thinks of Daryl. The first time he took him out hunting, rough housing in the backyard, their first real fist fight after Ma's funeral which resulted in an Emergency room visit for the both of them, giving Daryl his first beer at the tender age of ten, leaving a teary-eyed pre-teen Daryl in the dust as he sped out of that damn trailer park for the last time... He did his best. He tried his hardest but it was too goddamn hard to stay around home once Ma passed. The Old Man went from pissy drunk to raging alcoholic once he became a widower, progressively becoming more hateful with each passing year, and all his anger fell directly on Merle, swats to his head, punches to his face, the occasional choke hold, and the horrendous whip lashings his back suffered…

"Fuuuucck", Merle sighs. He feels exhausted, cold, and fucking angry. Goddamn fucking Governor doing this to him, his last chance to make things right, to start fresh with Daryl, to maybe make some sort of life for himself at that prison. He feels as though his head is swimming and starts to nod-off from the rapid blood loss.

Suddenly a half-assed smile crosses his dry lips, "Tammy," he breaths, "yup that was her name" as images of his first fuck come to mind.

A teenage Merle sits on the edge of the woman's bed, naked and sweaty. His crew-cut brown hair glistens in the light coming through the nearly-drawn drapes. A smirk plastered on his face having just lost his virginity.

"That was good baby" Tammy breaths into his ear, her breasts heave up and down with each ragged breath she takes. She was one of Ma's few friends. After Ma barbequed herself in that house fire, Tammy still kept coming around the Dixon trailer, at first bringing casseroles to keep them fed, helping out with household chores and sometimes just dropping by to check in on them. After a couple of months she started to only stop by when Merle was home alone. It didn't take him long to figure out that she was a lonely woman looking for someone to fill a gap left in her life after losing a close friend. He was a horny teenager looking to fill a certain dark hole with his man-meat. Over the course of several months they used each other selfishly and it all started one muggy summer afternoon while Pop was at the bar and Daryl was over at a friend's place. At that time he had believed that those two minutes were two minutes of undeniable pleasure. Countless one-night stands and short term relationships that went nowhere later, Merle knew that his first sexual encounter was less than mediocre and scoffed at his fifteen year-old self for ever thinking his first time fell into the mind-blowing fuck category.

He quietly laughs to himself that she felt the need to lie to him after it was all said and done. Then again those few words boosted his confidence and allowed him to later approach women with such self-assurance and bravado. He wonders how many sluts he actually banged over the years. How many hearts did mean ol' Merle break? How many bastard kids came from his seed?

He starts to shiver from the blood loss. He can hear a couple Walkers shuffling around but they don't seem to pay him any attention. Probably so close to death that they think he is already one of them. Then he sees her. Her waist-length light brown hair, with streaks of blonde that would shimmer in the sun as though they were rays of sunshine, rustling freely in the breeze. Her beautiful hazel eyes that would turn to a violent green when she was upset. Her pale pink lips, usually parted in a dazzling smile as he sees it now. It used to royally piss him off how she always seemed so happy then how, one day, those feelings abruptly changed and it became his livelihood, the reason for getting up each morning, and how he did everything and anything to make those kissable lips light up. She reaches down to him with a hand that once caressed him with such love and tenderness, he lifts his hand to meet her touch, briefly wonders how this was possible, as his eyes roll back into his head and the world fades into black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"Goddamn mother fuckers!" he screams knowing that the only ears his words fall on have long been dead. He immediately regrets his outburst as it only further agitates the corpses clawing at the door trying to get to their food source. A few decaying hands and arms push through the crack between door and frame, violently grabbing at the air. He knows it won't be long before the barricade falls and he becomes an all-you-can-eat buffet for those bastards. He quickly looks around to see what he can use to get out of this predicament. His eyes fall on a rusted hacksaw and he somehow manages to drag the old tool toward himself using his belt. He tries to saw off the handcuff but there is no way he can cut through the metal in time. The door starts to buckle under the weight of the gathering undead and he realizes he has only one option if he has a hope in hell of getting off this rooftop alive.

Merle quickly loops his belt it around his right forearm, cinching it tight. He grabs the hacksaw, hovering it over his skin. Before he can regret this deluded decision, he hears a loud cracking noise indicating that the door will soon offer no protection from those crazed corpses.

"Goddamn cunt pussy fuck," a slew of swear words escape his lips as he presses down on his wrist with the blade. Blood immediately starts to pool from the laceration made by the serrated teeth of the rusted tool. The banging on the door suddenly becomes more forceful as the smell of freshly spilt blood sends the walkers into a feeding frenzy. More sinister sounds start coming from the door as its hinges start to bend and break. Merle picks up the pace of his self-amputation despite the burning, excruciating pain his sawing actions are causing.

He can taste metal in his mouth as he realizes he has been biting his tongue in an attempt to somehow lessen the pain in his arm. He spits a mouthful of blood and saliva onto to ash-vault of the roof. "Fucking useless nigga' cunt and offica' friendly, gonna kill 'em" he curses under his breath as he continues to cut away his own flesh, muscle, and tendon. The saw's teeth suddenly come into contact with the bones in his wrist, and now with each pass of the blade an awful crunching sound can be heard, far worse than the sounds being emitted by the breaking door and savage beasts behind it. Merle can feel each and every pass of the saw, vibrating its way up his arm into his shoulder up his neck and into his head. He grits his teeth as sweat pours profusely from his forehead and the world starts to fade in and out. The pain is unbearable and he starts to question whether or not this is worth it when his bones finally break away under the savagery of the tool combined with his strength, desire the live, and an even greater need for revenge, "gotta get off this motha' fuckin' roof an' kick sum motha' fuckin' ass!".

He continues to rapidly cut away the remaining half of his forearm as he looks up at the door and threat of intruders. He realizes he only has seconds to spare as he desperately cuts away the remaining tendrils of flesh connecting his arm to his once favourite hand for jacking-off. Merle slowly stands up as he is finally freed from his restraint, now short one appendage. His body sways back and forth as he begins to understand the gravity of his situation and his body reacts to the rapid blood loss and abruptly severed appendage. Despite his tightly wrapped belt, his arm continues to furiously drip blood and he knows he must take action quickly unless he wants to bleed out on this fucking roof. Merle hastily looks for a way out and his eyes fall upon another door, one apparently free from the ravenous undead. He stumbles toward it, entering the back stairwell of the building, hoping for the best but expecting the worst.

Eventually he comes across a kitchen, spots a gas-stove, and turns it on, knowing what he must do in order to survive. He heats a small black iron tool in the flames of the stove until it is red hot. He takes a deep breath and presses it onto the carnage of his forearm, searing the severed veins, arteries, muscle, and tendon until the blood loss stops. The agonising pain of the cauterization accompanying the invading scent of his own burning flesh causes him to gag. Just as Merle completes his second surgical procedure of the day, he hears the distinct shuffle of dead feet. He grabs a wrench left haphazardly on the countertop by some long-gone previous owner and moves in the direction of the noise. The putrefied stench invades Merle's nostrils seconds before he sees the two corpses and they see him. They shamble toward Merle, outstretched rotting arms, slack jaws vocalizing the most awful moaning, and a hunger in their eyes he wants no way to be a part of. Merle raises his makeshift weapon, slamming it into the skull of the first walker causing a horrible crunching sound and the once-male body to slump down on the ground. Before the second corpse can grab him, Merle once again swings the wrench, burying it deep in the walker's head and ending its life.

Merle hears a terrible moaning coming from the stairwell, "Aw shit, fuckers musta' broke through," he breathes heavily, now truly feeling the effects of blood loss. He makes his way to a window, quickly opens it, and hoists himself onto the adjacent fire escape. He scouts the alleyway below, and seeing no inhabitants – dead or alive, and jumps down, almost immediately regretting his actions. His feet touch down on the pavement but his newly unsymmetrical unbalanced body causes him to lurch forward. In an attempt to brace himself, he reaches out with both hands, but before he can realize his mistake, already having briefly forgotten his missing limb, he collapses onto his right side. An immeasurable amount of pain shoots through his right shoulder and collar bone, "fuckin' broken bones too, why fuckin' not" he says under his breath as he shifts his weight in order to lie on his back. Hot breath courses in and out of his body, and suddenly Merle succumbs to one of his coughing fits brought on by years of smoking. However, his former military training kicks in, forcing him to abruptly catch his breath and sit up in order to survey his new surroundings.

Merle painfully gets to his feet and starts to swiftly move down the alley despite his ailing body. "Gotta get back to camp, gotta get to ma brotha', gotta kick some nigga' ass," he says under his breath. He makes his way to the street and stops dead in his tracks upon seeing countless walking corpses crowding his path back to base. He stealthily backs away in the direction he came, hoping to hell he went unnoticed. He jogs to the opposing street, and sees that the undead thickly crowd the direction leading out of Atlanta. Knowing he has no other option, he heads deeper into the city's core, hoping to eventually come across a way out.

Merle is unsure how long he wanders the streets of Atlanta, killing several walkers using a knife he found impaled in a rotting shell of a former human being, before he realizes he needs a safe place to rest. While the cauterization of his stump stopped any further bleeding, he had lost a significant amount of blood before he was able to perform that life-saving measure, and since he had not stopped moving since leaving the rooftop, Merle felt exhausted, dehydrated, and on the verge of delirium. Merle turns another street corner and stops dead in his tracks. "Why hello there gorgeous," he says as a smile spreads over his dry, cracked lips.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Chapter Three: Safety_**

It was an unremarkable building, six storeys tall, made of brick and appeared to have been built at least thirty years ago based on its architecture. A small family-run pharmacy occupied the right hand side of the ground level floor, its windows all having been smashed and its supplies long since looted, but it was not this establishment Merle concerned himself with. A solid metal door stood in the middle of the building, presumably the access point to the apartment complex above, and appeared to have survived the looting. Merle thinks to himself that the vandals probably left the dozen or so apartments alone, seeing as how they would have been able to gather ample supplies from the pharmacy. Merle thinks back to the news reports of when everything first started and remembers how this area was one of the first to be evacuated to the so-called safe zone. Once again, it wasn't those previous people's homes he cared about. To the left of the door was a beaconing light that made him believe he could actually survive this disaster. A stark white sign with large red letters reading "Methadone Clinic, Referals Only" hung limply above a darkened alcove.

The clinic was untouched. Its secure barred metal door and lack of windows acted as a deterrent to the common looter but Merle was no common man. He knew of the glorious drugs lying safely inside the building and he was dying for his next high. Seeing as how Officer Friendly had tossed his last remaining hits of cocaine off that damned roof and there were no longer dealers occupying the sketchy street corners of this city, he really had no other option. Merle decides that the easiest way in would be from the apartment above. There was no way he could bust through that door without attracting every undead corpse in a ten mile radius. He also could feel that the adrenaline coursing through his veins was fading fast and he knew he would be crashing soon.

Merle makes his way to the side of the building where he spots a fire escape. "Damn," he mutters to himself, seeing that someone had chained up the pull down ladder. He spots an old dumpster nearby, rusted and smeared with streaks of dried blood from some long ago end of human life. He pushes the metal box using his uninjured side and is relieved when he feels it slide forward. Unfortunately, a loud grating noise is emitted from the metal grinding on the pavement, and Merle knows he needs to act fast. Drenched in sweat and feeling weaker with every push, he moves the dumpster until it is almost under the fire escape. A few walkers roaming the nearby streets are attracted by this new noise and just as Merle hoists himself up onto the dumpster, they enter the alley and beeline toward the panting, exhausted man.

He knows he only has one shot at this, so Merle takes a few deep breaths then leaps off the dumpster, remaining arm outstretched and ready to grab onto the railing. He feels the cool metal make contact with his palm and he immediately encircles the bar with his hand and starts to pull. He feels his muscles burning and twitching under the weight of his body, sweat begins to pour out of places he didn't even know could sweat. The half-dozen animated corpses gathered below reach out to grab him, swatting at his feet. The thought of being eaten alive by those fucks gives Merle the last bit of power he needs as he drags himself onto the metal landing and stares down at the moaning creatures through the grating.

He lies there for several moments, letting his body rest, allowing oxygen to pump back into his spent muscles. "Fuckin' dumbass cannibals," he sneers as he stares down into the rotting eyes of his predators, "guess y'all forgot how to jump, ya fuckin' shit brains?" he spits down upon the former humans. Merle realizes he still has much work to do before he can get to his honeypot so instead of giving in to his bodily needs, he slowly stands up and looks through the nearest window.

He peers into a small dirty kitchen and swiftly bangs on the glass panel to draw out any inhabitants of the dwelling, dead or alive. Several minutes later, no movement can be detected within so Merle attempts to push open the window and is surprised when it easily slides open. "Finally, a fuckin' break," he smirks to himself as he leaps through the opening and lands on the black-and-white tiled floor. He quickly rummages through the kitchen cupboards, finding only a few cans of cat food. "Fuck that shit, ain't that desperate yet," he mutters to himself as he tosses the cans onto the countertop. He opens the refrigerator door and regrets ever doing so as the pungent odour of rotting food ransacks his nostrils. "Fuck!" he exclaims, slamming the door shut.

As he bends down to check the lower cupboards of the kitchen, his body begins to tremble and shake involuntarily as he is overcome by a wave of nausea and a feeling of light headedness. He stands up on his wobbly legs, grabs onto the countertop with his only hand in order to stop himself from collapsing onto the dust covered floor, and vomits profusely into the kitchen sink, the spew of half-digested food nearly missing the sink completely. Swear pours from his weakened body, blurring his vision and burning his eyes as it drips down his face. It is as though his body has been waiting to enter somewhere safe, and after deeming this scummy apartment secure enough, it decides that it has finally had enough, and begins to exhibits signs of shock and utter fatigue. The sounds of Merle retching mask the creaking made by the opening of the apartment door and the fall of footsteps made by the new arrival.

"How the fuck did you get in here, you undead bastard?" a gruff voice demands, as the person steps cautiously toward Merle.

No one fucking mistakes him for one of those cannibal corpses, Merle thinks to himself as he slowly pushes himself up from the sink. "Fuck you," he growls as he starts to turn around to face this new assailant.

Before he can see who is making those threats, his world begins to pulsate, he can feel his strength fleeting from his body, his vision becomes spotty and everything starts to look grey as his body crumples to the floor. But before he completely succumbs to the dark depths of unconsciousness, he hears his would-be assassin utter, "Holy hell, you're alive!" Then there is darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: Hazy**

The agonizing pain coursing through his right arm causes him to regain a state of semi-consciousness. He remembers entering the abandoned apartment, puking his guts out, then passing out. Merle tries to open his eyes but his eyelids feel far too heavy to simply be thin layers of skin. Even though his mind is foggy, he suddenly detects the presence of another person nearby, therefore he decides to keep his eyes shut in order to feign sleep and have a little more time to figure things out before the person determines he is awake.

Merle knows he is no longer lying on the kitchen floor because the material underneath him is soft, like some sort of foam mattress pad, and he can feel a light sheet draped over his body. The apartment he had climbed into was stuffy and had the scent that only occurred when a room was kept closed for an extended period of time. Where ever he presently rested gave no such impression to his olfactory nerve. In fact, he can detect a faint odour of antiseptic and wonders if he somehow managed to end up in a hospital. He can feel something wrapped around his left wrist and subtly moves his arm, immediately meeting resistance. He grinds his teeth at the notion of being some dumb asses' prisoner. He begins to think of ways to break free from his restraint and how to overpower his guard. Merle almost lets a smirk sneak onto his face. If only that guy knew about the world of hurt coming his way for tying him up like some rabid dog. Merle suddenly begins to shiver and it dawns on him that he is feverish. His spastic movements cause his right arm to flail and it is only after he smashes the tender stump against his body that he notices it has been bandaged. An overpowering, overwhelming burning sensation suddenly radiates up his right arm and Merle uses every ounce of his willpower to stop himself from crying out loud but still ends up emitting a stifled guttural grunt.

His utterance draws the guard's attention. A male voice calls out, "Hey Mitch… I think he might be waking up. He looks like he might be in pain, keeps grinding his teeth and just made some sort of moaning sound. Fever probably spiked again too, looks flushed."

Even though Merle's senses are dulled from the infection raging within his body, dehydration, and exhaustion, he is still able to detect when another person walks into this makeshift prison cell/hospital room. He feels something gently tug on his left forearm and it is only then that he realizes cool fluids have been running into his body through an intravenous line. Numerous past emergency room visits requiring IV drugs gave him the experience necessary to determine what was going on. Having fluids pumped into you gives a specific sensation a person never quite forgets. He could feel the newest arrival fumbling with the tubing and he knew exactly what was going to happen next. He was going to get his high after all.

He feels a slight burning to the site where the needle penetrated his body and enters the vein. He wants to smile as he anticipates the unfolding events, but remains stoic, still not knowing who these strangers are and what their intentions might be. Then it hits him, that glorious rush he always felt every time and with every drug he ever smoked, snorted, or shot up with. It pleasantly invades his head and causes a warmth to course through his body. He wasn't sure exactly what drug had just been injected into him but he figures it was an opioid of some sort, morphine, dilaudid, maybe fentanyl. Regardless, he is grateful for it. The pain which had previously been invading his entirety soon dissipates, his worries seemingly having went with it, and Merle drifts off into unconsciousness once again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: Introductions**

Merle can feel his stump being manipulated and reflexively tries to pull his arm back. The grip around his right forearm tightens slightly and a pleasant feminine voice tries to sooth him, "Its ok, just need to change your dressing, try to relax." He can feel cold metal slide against his skin followed by the sound of scissors cutting through his bandage. Merle begins to moan as his stump begins to throb from being handled by this woman. "Shhhhhh, please try not to move, I know this is probably painful for you but need you to keep still. I just gave you some more pain medication, it will start working soon, I promise," the woman softly says.

He can feel the woman pulling on the old bandage and Merle suddenly sees stars as the dressing is abruptly yanked from the wound, taking dried blood and dead tissue with it, and causing a shit-load of agony. "Ya fuckin' bitch," Merle screams as he tries to sit up and open his eyes in order to finally get a good look at the cunt causing him all this pain. Just then his head begins to swim as the drugs come into effect and Merle leans back into the pillow beneath his head. "Ohhhhhhhh," he moans as he once again drifts off into a drug-induced sleep.

Over the next few days, Merle's existence is reduced to either being unconscious or half-awake and high as a kite from all the pain medication being given to him. Although he would rather be out looking for Daryl and the fuckers who left him to die on that roof, he is somewhat grateful for the state he is being kept in because his amputation hurts like a bitch and he knows his body needs to rest in order to kill off the infection raging within. He knows Daryl better than anyone, that he wouldn't stop looking for his big brother after only a matter of days. During the times he is hazily awake, he learns that there are three people, other than himself, living in this dilapidated apartment building. He thinks their names are Owen, Ed, and Mitch but he isn't too sure, his mind still seems so fuzzy. However, he knows one thing for sure, and that is that he likes Mitch because she gives him the drugs. Merle decides that he will fuck her till she can't walk right once he is well enough as a way of thanking her for all the care provided. Other than that, he knows nothing about these people and doesn't plan on sticking around long enough to learn more.

Merle fully opens his eyes for the first time in days and slowly looks around his surroundings. He is indeed lying on a bed which was situated in the middle of a small square room. There is a desk in dire need of a new coat of paint placed underneath a boarded up window, although Merle can see rays of sunshine peaking in through the haphazardly nailed pieces of wood. To the left of him, sitting in a cheaply made rocking chair with closed eyes, is a black man who looks to be in his late sixties. Merle has to admit to himself that if it weren't for the colour of his skin, the man would be quite handsome, with his strong jawline and symmetrical face, Merle is sure that women wet their panties checking him out when he was in his prime. Merle slowly sits himself and once the spinning sensation passes, he swings his legs over the left side of the bed, and plants his bare feet on the floor. He now practically sits face to face with the other man who continues to sleep peacefully despite Merle's movements. Merle shakes his head at the sorry excuse for a guard and sees this as his chance to escape. He cautiously tries to stand up knowing that his usually physically fit body is weakened. However, the moment his body lifts off the bed, the nylon rope acting as his restraint swiftly pulls on his left arm causing him to fall back down toward the bed. He goes to untie the simple knot but as he brings his right hand toward his left, he realizes that it won't be as easy as he first thought.

He glares down at the neatly bandaged stump and can feel rage bubbling within. "Fuckin' chink-town pizza boy, fuckin' clumsy ass nigga', fucking' cunt ass bitch, fuckin' howdy dudey rent-a-cop, I'ma fuckin' kill 'em! Rip 'em limb by limb for this!" Merle screams as he yanks his restrained arm forward in a desperate attempt to break the bond. This outburst causes the once sleeping man to jump to his feet.

"Hey there son, calm down," Merle recognizes the voice and determines that this must be Owen. The man, now standing to his full height, looms over Merle and gently puts his hands on Merle's shoulders in an attempt to get him to remain seated, "You're just gonna..."

This further infuriates Merle as he cries, "don't touch me ya fuckin nigga'! Jus' untie me and let me go!" He continues to pull on his left arm but the rope is far stronger than it looks. Merle glares into the eyes of the dark-skinned man, "I ain't ya prisona', I ain't nobodies prisoner!"

In his outburst, Merle fails to notice the room's door opening and the person now standing at the end of his bed until he hears, "And you're not our prisoner. Just sit back down because you are going to end up hurting yourself even more and I really don't want that to happen," says a soft-spoken female voice. Although she says it in a manner that is polite with words of honest concern, Merle can detect a hint of anger seething beneath the words.

Merle slowly turns his head to finally get a good look at the owner of the voice, Mitch, the one who has been giving him drugs and doing his dressing changes. The woman's appearance catches Merle off-guard, so much so that he stares at her briefly with his mouth agape. Her light brown hair flows freely around her face, down her back to her waist and appears slightly disheveled as though she had just gotten out of bed. The sunshine sneaking in to the room causes her hair to shine and he sees that she has streaks of blonde scattered throughout her thick waves. Her fair skin appears youthful and flawless, and he notices her cheeks are slightly flushed, probably from rushing into the room upon hearing his outburst. Her hazel eyes stare down at him without fear, although he is far larger than her and could easily overpower her slender frame. The off-white tank top clings to her curves and he can't help but briefly gawk at her supple breasts which clearly are not being held back by any bra at the moment. While she most definitely would have been considered a pretty woman before the apocalypse started, the fact that she looked so clean and healthy made her, by far, the most beautiful thing he had seen in weeks. He clears his throat to speak and for the first time since waking up, notices how dry his mouth has become, as though it were stuffed with cotton balls. Merle wants to use some of his famous Dixon charm on the woman but all he can muster is, "oh…" He suddenly feels like passing out as his state of exhaustion catches up to him and he mutters, "y'all have anything to drink 'round here?"

Owen releases his grip on Merle's shoulders after seeing that he has calmed down and starts to leave the room, but not before shooting Merle a quick scowl. Mitch sits down beside Merle, all the while watching him carefully in case he decides to make any sudden movement. She gently grasps Merle's stump in her hands and examines the bandage. Upon seeing fresh blood seeping through the white gauze, she shakes her head, "You need to be more careful Merle or all my hard work will be for nothing. You really shouldn't have tried to get out of bed on your own, you've been stuck in there for quite some time. Coulda' fallen flat on your face."

If Merle didn't feel so fatigued and if his mouth didn't feel like it was full of razor blades, he would have put that woman in her place. No one fucking talks to Merle that way, he thinks to himself as he turns toward her, a scowl on his face and a glare in his steel blue eyes. Merle notices Mitch flinch under his steady gaze but is rather impressed how she holds her ground against him, meeting his cool eyes with her own. Owen swiftly returns with a bottled water in hand, promptly hands it over to Mitch, and then heads back out of the room while stating, "I'll be with Ed, if you need me just holler, hun."

Mitch nods, acknowledging the statement, and then uncaps the bottle and brings it to Merle's lips, "Drink slow, ok. Your stomach hasn't had anything in it for days and if you drink it too fast you'll end up puking." Her words are gentle but her actions are cautious as she helps Merle drink a few sips of water. The warm water immediately quenches Merle's thirst as he feels it slide down his throat into his empty stomach. Just as Merle starts to get the feeling that if he drinks another sip he will hurl, Mitch pulls the plastic mouth away from his lips, as though she read his mind. "Want some help getting back into bed? You are looking a little pale and I should probably change your dressing," she says as she stands up.

"Darlin'," he drawls in his Southern accent, having now found both his voice and famous Dixon charm, "while I'd love ta stay an' keep such a gorgeous thang like ya'self com'ny, I best be on my way. Thangs to do, places ta be, people to… well ya know the saying," and winks at Mitch.

Mitch appears undisturbed by Merle's forthcoming remarks and now stands in front of him with her arms crossed over her chest in attempt to shield her breasts from his unabashed stares. She smiles down at him, "Like I said before, you're not our prisoner." She moves closer to him and skillfully begins to untie his restraint, all the while never taking her eyes off Merle's. As the last knot comes undone she sighs, "And while you are free to go, I really wish you didn't. You just woke up, you need twice daily dressing changes, more antibiotics…"

Merle interrupts, "While it makes me happy to hear ya'd be sad to see me go, Sweetheart, I've been through worse." He pushes himself off the bed and tries to stand tall, instead he sways back and forth, his legs no longer used to bearing the full weight of his body. He suddenly feels very light-headed and knows he is on the verge of collapsing.

Mitch swiftly wraps her arms around his waist and uses her weight against him in order to guide him back down toward the bed. Merle is surprised by her strength and relishes the few seconds he can feel her breasts pressing up against his chest. She promptly releases him then grabs his legs and swings them into the bed forcing him to lie down, all before Merle can grasp what she is doing. Just as he opens his mouth to voice his complaints, Mitch looks down at him with a stern expression on her face, "Look, you want to be here just as much as I want you here, which isn't very much. You are sick. You need my help. Stay for a least a few more days. I don't want all the time, effort, and supplies I put into you going to waste, which is exactly what would happen if you walked out of here in your current condition. You would be torn to shit by the undead," Merle tries to interject but Mitch holds up her hand to shush him, "Now do I need to get Owen to tie you up again? Or can I trust you to stay in bed?"

Merle lets out a long, drawn out sigh. As much as he hates when people talk down to him like this, especially women, he knows she is right. He wouldn't last five minutes out there. Hell, he couldn't even get out of bed without the world starting to spin and feeling like his guts were on fire. He looks her in the eyes and smiles, "Well… 'suppose I could stick 'round for another night or two. I do like 'em drugs ya keep givin' me. Hell, maybe we could snuggle up one of these nights," Mitch narrows her eyes at Merle, clearly not flattered by his words, but that doesn't stop him from winking at her and saying, "I could, ya know, repay ya for your services, if ya know what I mean, so long as ya hubby don't mind."

Mitch looks puzzled, "My husband?" She shakes her head and a small smile creeps onto her lips, "You must mean Owen? Well I am not exactly his type... Anyway, let's get you settled back to bed so I can change your dressing. Owen?" She calls out the door and within seconds the man is by her side, the worried look on his face slowly vanishes upon seeing Merle lying in bed, "Merle's going to be staying with us a bit longer. I just wanna get some clothes on but I wanna make sure he stays in bed…As long as Ed is alright that is."

"He is still sleeping, so do what you need to do," Owen smiles at Mitch as she walks out of the room. He goes and sits down in the rocking chair then coolly says to Merle, "So you decided to stay."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: Learning**

"Yup," Merle cocks his head, eyeing Owen up and down, "So... how'd ya end up cooped up here with such a fine piece of ass?"

The man's large brown eyes bulge out of his head, "Uhhh, excuse me?"

"Ya know. How'd Mitch and ya and this Ed fella' end up here?" Merle presses on, wanting to learn more about Mitch so he could figure out how to get into her pants. While he never had any issue finding willing sexual partners before the apocalypse started, it had been a few months since his last fuck, having been in county lock-up for a few weeks before Daryl busted him out once the dead started walking. He had tried his hand with some of the women at camp but most were already partnered up. The only single ones were those lovely blonde sisters, but they gave the impression that they were scared of him. Anyway, it seemed as though they were more interested in the old man and his RV.

The neutral expression on Owen's face disappears as he furrows his eyebrows and narrows his eyes, "Mitch is my niece. Well she is Ed's niece and Ed had been my partner for the last thirty-two years, so she may as well be my own flesh and blood. Love her just the same."

"Ya a fuckin' faggot?" Merle spits out in disbelief. The man looked nothing like a queer and acted as straight as any good man Merle ever knew, "Guess that explains how ya ain't hittin' that…" he quickly says under his breath.

The room becomes uncomfortably silent, so when Mitch reappears with an armful of medical supplies, both men breathe a sigh of relief. Much to Merle's disappointment, a baggy black Metallica shirt now hides her curves. He finds some compensation in the fact that her sexy long legs are now showcased by denim shorts. "Uncle Ed is up and asking for you Owen," Mitch says with a grim look on her face, "his colour isn't too good this morning. He's getting weaker by the day. I'm afraid…"

Owen stands up quickly from the chair, almost knocking it backwards, thus interrupting her words, "Don't be thinking like that. He is stronger than you think, my dear," as he walks by Mitch he quietly says, "I'm on the other side of the wall if you need me… for anything, ok?"

Mitch smiles lovingly at the man as she tenderly touches his shoulder, "Save your worry for Uncle Ed, he is the one that needs it." Owen promptly heads into the adjacent room as Mitch walks over to the desk and begins arranging some medical supplies. She grabs a towel and places it under Merle's now blood-soaked bandaged arm, the movement causes him to wince in pain. She immediately notices this and bites her lower lip. She briefly ponders how to tell Merle this next bit of information and decides to straight up tell him how it is, "So you clearly need your bandage changed but the thing is… Well, we are running low on IV pain meds. All we have left is a bit of fentanyl. It works fast but doesn't last long and I'm worried I won't get everything done before that happens."

Merle shrugs his shoulders, he is more upset about not being able to get high than anything else "Do what 'cha gotta do, I guess."

Mitch methodically gets her supplies set up and once everything looks satisfactory, she walks over to the other side of the bed where the intravenous is running clear fluids into Merle. She grabs a syringe and instills the liquid into one of the ports in the tubing. Merle smiles to himself as that all-too familiar feeling rushes over his body, and he welcomes it with open arms. He barely notices her removing the old dressing until the layer closest to his skin is ripped off, "Christ woman!" he slurs as he turns to look at her.

She shrugs her shoulders, "Sorry. This wouldn't be so bad either if you hadn't gone all ragey on us earlier," she says with a sly smile on her face, "Should have listened to me. You reopened some tissue that had mostly healed. That was just stupid of you."

Merle runs his tongue along his teeth. If he wasn't trying to get a fuck out of her before he blew this joint he would have smacked her silly. Instead he takes a deep breath and says, "Ya knew I was gonna fall… was why ya untied me… y'all are a sly little thing. I oughta spank ya for that," finishing his sentence with a wink.

Much to Merle's surprise and ultimately delight, she bats her eyelashes at him and grins, "I have been a very naughty girl but you wouldn't know how to handle me, old man."

"Hey, I ain't that old sugar. I think y'all would be very happy with the Merle experience. I have been known ta…" a small groan escapes his lips as Mitch cleans off some of the pus and dead tissue from his wound.

"Sorry," her lips form a sincere apologetic smile, "Pain meds must be wearing off. Try to think of something to distract your mind… nothing dirty though. Can't have your brain losing any more blood," she says letting loose a small laugh.

Merle grins at the sound of her laughter. He starts to think that maybe it won't be so hard to stick around for the next few days. Mitch seems to have relaxed greatly since "Uncle" Owen left the room. Suddenly he grinds his teeth to stifle another moan as more pain shoots through his stump, "Distract me woman… How'd ya manage to end up here?"

"You want to full story or the cliff notes version?" Mitch laughs, looking up at Merle.

"I ain't going nowhere," Merle says through gritted teeth but immediately regrets his harsh tone as Mitch's smile slightly fades. Something in those beautiful hazel eyes tells him she needs to get something off her chest and the only way to do that would be by telling her story.

Mitch continues to clean his wound as she tells her story, "I don't know if Owen told you or not, but I came to live with him and Uncle Ed when I was twelve, after some shit went down with my mom. So we've always been pretty close. I had moved out after I started working as a nurse but I moved back in with them a few weeks before the world really turned to shit.

You see, a couple years ago Uncle Ed was diagnosed with liver cancer. For a while it looked as though he might actually beat it but then six months ago, he took a turn for the worst. Doctors said there was nothing left to do other than make sure he was comfortable. They ended up selling the house and moving into this shit-hole in order to pay for all the medical bills. When he became bedridden, I took a leave of absence from work and moved in.

This area was one of the first to be evacuated to the safe-zone but Uncle Ed refused to leave since he wanted to die at home… and there was no way I was just going to leave him and Owen. They are all I have left… So the plan had been to stay here until Uncle Ed passed away, then Owen and I would head out to the safe zone. I guess everything happens for a reason because not even a week later we heard it got completely overrun. Some of my nursing friends told me about the reanimating corpses before anything went to the news so we were able to stockpile a ton of supplies before the stores were cleaned out… We decided that we would just stay cooped up here until things settled down… securing the building was pretty easy since everyone else had left and there are only two ways up into the apartments. I guess we didn't do that good of a job because you got in...

Alright everything is all done. Shouldn't need to change it again until the night," Mitch smiles as she secures the last piece of tape. She gently places a hand on Merle's shoulder, "You should get some sleep," and starts to walk toward the door.

Merle reaches across the bed and grabs her wrist with his left hand, "Thank ya doll… but can ya do me one more thang ta help me sleep a lil' easier… been buggin' the shit outta me… can ya tell me how ya knew my name" He thought he may have told her during his drug-induced haziness, which was a strong possibility considering he had very little recollection of the past five days, but he wanted to know for sure.

Mitch turns to Merle and looks at him, her big doe eyes filling with tears, "You mean you don't remember me at all? Oh god…"

Merle shakes him head, "Sorry darlin', a lot o' years o' my life are kinda hazy. But I'm pretty sure I would neva' forget such a sweet lil' thang like ya…"

"You really don't remember me? That bar, that night… You promised me it was more than a one night stand…" Mitch pouts, "We slept together a couple weeks before things started happening… and…and… I'm pregnant… with your baby. Why else would I be helping you?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven: Tease**

Merle's head starts to race. He knew that it was a possibility he had a bunch of bastard children running around the state of Georgia. He usually used protection but there were times when he forgot. How else would he have been able to get the Clap on three different occasions? But to have one of his sexual conquests standing here in front of him, pregnant with his child, during the apocalypse of all times, and to not even remember her? It was too much to handle and he suddenly is overcome by the urge to vomit.

Upon seeing Merle's perplexed expression and a growing pallor, Mitch's tears are suddenly transformed into laughter, "Holy shit! Just fucking with you! Even in the apocalypse woman clutch their purses and men pocket their wallets… I saw your name on your driver's licence. I found it when I was cleaning you up. Calm down, we never met before and I am most definitely not pregnant with your, or any other man's child."

If Merle didn't feel utterly relieved at that moment, he would have slapped that bitch. He glares at her, "Not funny ya fuckin' cunt. Thought nurses were supposed ta be nice…"

"Oh come on, it was a little bit funny. You deserved it anyway. Eye fucking me all the time. And jesus, how many women have you slept with if you thought you might have slept with me and couldn't even remember?" Mitch teases him.

The sound of her laughter is infectious and Merle can feel a small smile creeping onto his face, "I've had my fair share a fun. I've had many a satisfied customers… been told many a time that Dixon dick is the best 'round..."

She shakes her head, "Ya… it was all you seemed to be able to talk about these last few days. Well that, and your brother Daryl."

"Huh? Whatcha mean?" The mention of Daryl's name causes his breath to get stuck in his throat and he can feel his mouth go dry.

Upon seeing the distressed look on Merle's face form with the mention of his brother, Mitch reassuringly smiles and says, "You wouldn't shut up about him. Sounded like it was you two against the world. Told me all about your hunting trips and drunken partying," she sees the topic of his brother is rather distressing, so in order to lighten the mood she adds, "But you mostly tried to seduce me… not sure how many times you asked me to suck your cock… It makes sense you don't remember. You were really sick… wasn't sure you'd pull through during those first two days…"

"But I did… ya saved me…why?" he questions, not sure why anyone would risk their life and use their precious supplies to save a stranger.

Mitch shrugs her shoulders, "I guess… I dunno… seemed like the right thing to do. And you were the first non-related living person I'd seen in weeks…"

"Oh so ya jus wanted ta get me better so ya can have ya way with me?" Merle teases, his mood had immediately improved with the mention of sex.

"Like I said before, you couldn't handle me old man. But you know…" Mitch kneels on the bed beside Merle, places one of her hands on his chest, moves her face close to Merle's and seductively licks her lips, "I have been _very_ lonely… a woman like myself _does_ have needs… and… I did see what you are packing," her hand slowly slides down Merle's chest to his abdomen, slowly making its way to just above his groin. He hadn't noticed that the only thing he was wearing was an old hospital gown until now. The thin material does nothing to hide his growing erection.

Merle wraps his good arm around her waist and pulls her toward him, a gasp escapes Mitch's lips as she is surprised by his strength despite being so ill. His face nuzzles her firm breasts and he is soundly disappointed by the bra she must have put on when she had changed her clothing. Mitch presses on his shoulder pushing away from him, "Merle… I was just teasing… anyway you're too…"

He looks up at her with a devilish grin on his face, "Suga' nobody likes a cock-tease… And I wanted ta know what ya thought of lil' Dixon…" He pulls down on her waist with the crook of his elbow so her upper thigh is now pressed up against his lap, another gasp escapes her full lips, "So whatcha think?" He thrusts his pelvis into her bare thigh so she can feel his full length against her. The only thing separating her skin and his penis is the worn-down cotton of the hospital gown.

A moan escapes her lips upon feeling his substantial firmness, "very impressive. I am sure I could put it to good use," she breathes as he begins nuzzling her neck, "but… only when you are better." She gently pushes away from him and slides off his lap.

"Come on darlin', ya know ya want me," Merle growls playfully. He slides his hand to the back of her head, allowing her soft tresses of hair to slip through his fingers. He pulls her head close and can feel her breath on his lips. He tilts her head back and begins a trail of kisses along her jawline.

Mitch moistens her lush lips as Merle continues to kiss her exposed neck. He can sense lust radiating off of her and can feel his own desire building within. He pulls her head back and is about to envelope her mouth with his when the sound of a person clearing his throat causes them both to turn around and look toward the door. Owen stands there with his arms crossed and a stern look on his face. He sighs, "Jesus Christ Michelle… have you no respect for yourself?"

Mitch quickly stands up, cheeks reddened from embarrassment and anger at her uncle's comment. She turns to Merle and softly says, "You really should get some rest. I'll wake you in time for lunch." She quickly leaves the room shutting the door behind her.

Despite the closed door he can hear Mitch say, "Are you kidding me? Of course I have some self-respect, which is pretty amazing considering what I came from… And what does that have anything to do with it anyway?"

"Look, I'm just worried about you. Ever since you left Chris, well, you have kind of been…well acting like a horny promiscuous teenager…" Owens response causes Merle to smirk at the thought of his lovely nurse acting all school-girl slutty with strangers.

Mitch reacts angrily, "Seriously? Just because I'm not married to the men I sleep with doesn't make me a slut… And how dare you bring up Chris? That bastard stepped out on me and got that bitch pregnant despite everything I was going through! The world has gone to shit Owen! You get to cuddle Uncle Ed at night… I'm all alone." Merle shakes his head at the thought of a man stepping out on such a fine thing such as Mitch. Only an idiot would do something like that. While Merle likes his women, he has only ever been with one woman at a time, the thought of dipping his stick into more than one pot at a time doesn't sit well with him. Merle can hear that the pair continuing to bicker back and forth but his body succumbs to the effects of exhaustion and Merle slips into a dreamless sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Chapter Eight: Hurt_**

Upon waking up, Merle immediately notices two things. The first being that the room is now enveloped in the dusky light that only accompanies the early Georgia evenings. The second is that he is starving and his stomach's growling is only exacerbated by the delicious smell of cooking food that has invaded the apartment. Merle slowly moves himself to the edge of the bed and sits up, not daring to get out of bed knowing he still is extremely weak. Before he can call out to catch someone's attention, Mitch is at his bedside with a tray of food.

"I was going to wake you for lunch but you were right passed out. Figured you need the sleep anyway," she smiles at Merle as she arranges the food in front of him. He wonders how the hell someone could always be smiling when the world outside has gone to shit. He was just about to open his mouth and say something snarky to the woman when the sight of his meal distracts him. Mitch notices him eyeballing the food and comments, "It's nothing fancy but it should do the trick."

Merle hadn't seen this hearty of a meal in weeks. He mumbles, "mhmm" as he grabs what appears to be a biscuit and dunks it into the bowl of soup. He rapidly devours the soup-soaked biscuit and goes to grab a spoon with his right hand. He quickly realizes his mistake and anger begins to bubble within as he awkwardly tries to eat with a utensil in his left hand for the first time in his life.

Mitch notices Merle's frowning face as he struggles to eat with his non-dominant hand, "It'll get easier with time. Don't be too hard on yourself in the meantime."

Merle slams his spoon down on the TV tray, spilling some soup on himself, "How longs that fuckin' 'sposed ya take huh? Whatcha fuckin' know 'bout this shit anyway woman? Like ya ever had a hard day in ya life... Always smiling an shit..."

Mitch sighs, "You'll figure it out one way or the other... I mean you did manage to survive the initial amputation and infection..."

"Ya whatever. Jus leave me 'lone," Merle mutters as he attempts to eat with the spoon once more, managing to shakily get a mouthful of the steaming stew in his mouth.

"No I'm not going anywhere," Mitch mumbles. Merle shoots her a death glare then continues to devour his meal. She shrugs her shoulders, unfazed by his expression, "I'm not giving up that easily. Can't give up in humanity and my humility that like that. Not that many living people left, in case you haven't noticed, and if we can't help each other out, what's the point?" She sees that Merle is taken aback by her statement and the two sit in silence for several minutes, the only sounds are those being made by Merle slurping food off his spoon. In order to break the silence, Mitch asks, "How'd you lose your hand in the first place? Been wondering since you got here."

Between mouthfuls of stew, Merle replies, "Cut it off muh-self."

"Why? Did one of those things bite you?" Mitch asks as she moves from the bed to the rocking chair.

"Ya sure ask alota questions woman," Merle grumbles but responds to her questions regardless, "Naw wasn't bite. Got chained ta a roof. Had ta cut muh-self free before them biters got ta me. Merle smiles to himself at the look or horror on Mitch's face, "Now can I eat I or are ya gonna keep pesterin' me wit' questions?"

Mitch shrugs her shoulders but remains seated in the rocking chair, "Fine. I'll just read. I need to change your bandage and give you antibiotics once you're done," she picks up her book and Merle goes back to his food.

Eating never felt so good as it did now. He was pretty sure the stew was from a can, but it was warmed up which beat eating it cold out of the tin. The fruit cocktail, something he never cared for in his pre-apocalyptic days, was just the right amount of sweet. Merle polishes off everything on his tray and loudly licks his fingers in order to get Mitch's attention, "Ya can do ya thang now suga' tits."

Mitch raises an eyebrow at Merle, "Sugar tits? Really? Thought you were more clever than that," She smirks as she gets out of the chair. She grabs some sort of liquid-filled bag and hooks it up to Merle's IV. She notices the questioning look on his face and says, "it's the antibiotics. Probably another day or two on the IV stuff then you can take pills for another week. To make sure we definitely kill off the infection."

"Oh..." Merle was hopeful she was giving him some more pain medication. He could tell that the previous drugs were mostly out of his system and his pain was starting to act up. That, and he was itching for his next high, "What about somethin' for pain?"

Mitch grabs a small medicine cup that had been sitting on the bedside table and hands it to Merle, "I don't have anymore IV stuff left... my uncle used the last of it this afternoon. Here's some T3's... its all I've got," she says apologetically.

He pops the pills into his mouth and swallows them whole, washing them back with a sip of water from his bottle. He gives her a half-smile, "Meh, better than nothin'. Let's get this done."

Merle can still feel twinges of pain as Mitch takes his old bandage off, "Looking better already," Mitch smiles as she inspects the wound bed.

Merle peers down at his stump and almost gags, thinking to himself that there is no way in hell it could be looking better. The end of his arm looks like ground beef, all bloodied and raw, although he can see a few areas that look to be in the healing process. However, some of his stump remains pusy and infected, a couple spots even look black. In order to get his mind off the carnage that used to be the site where his hand connected to his arm, he asks, "Whatcha readin'?"

Mitch looks up from cleaning Merle's wound and smiles, "The second book from Stephen King's The Dark Tower series. One of my favourites. Let's me escape this crap-tastic existence of mine."

"Know whatcha mean. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer was my favourite way ta 'scape my life," Merle smiles at the surprised looks that appears on Mitch's face, "What? Didn't think I'd be a Twain fan?"

"Naw. I'm just surprised you could even read at all," she jokingly nudges his shoulder with her free hand.

Merle smiles at the memory that forms before his eyes, "Ya. Used ta secretly read ta Daryl after we went ta bed. He'd watch me readin', looked at me like I was some kinda god. Us huddled under the blankets with a flashlight," he briefly chuckles at the thought but then his blue eyes darken, "Problem was if Pa caught us... I'd get one hella beatin'. He always said books are for pussies..."

"Shitty..." Mitch finishes wrapping his stump and tapes the new bandage up. In order to lighten the mood, Mitch jokes, "Shoulda just read him the articles in your playboys instead."

"How'd such a sweet thang like ya know about that, huh?" Merle asks as her looks her up and down, thinking that she looks stunning in the fading light and how he can't wait to feel her tight pussy wrapped about his cock.

"My mom's boyfriends would leave them lying around. I was a curious kid," she shrugs.

"Boyfriends? No dad around?" Merle asks. He finds himself wanting to learn more about this woman which was odd for him, considering that the most he usually wanted to get to know a chick was how she felt on the inside.

"Nope..." Mitch pauses, unsure whether or not she wants to tell Merle the truth. After a few seconds she continues, "overdosed on heroin when I was three. Closest I ever had to a dad was uncle Ed and Owen. Hell, they were more parental to me than my own mom."

Merle immediately feels terrible for some of his earlier comments. He hated that about himself sometimes. Always assuming that no one out there could possibly have had it as bad as him. This woman had been through hardship too. He can see the hurt in her hazel eyes, now glassy from held back tears. He knows it must be a painful subject for Mitch, but he wants to find out more, and from the looks of her, she wants to talk about it too. Merle clears his throat, "Sorry 'bout ya Pa. What about ya Mama?"

"I moved in with Uncle Ed and Owen when I was twelve and haven't seen or heard from her much since," Mitch's voice is full of hurt and disdain. Her hazel eyes look far more green than ever before, the colour change clearly brought on by the seething hate for the one who birthed her, "it's her fault my dad overdosed... When they first met, my dad thought he could change my mom, you know, save her. Uncle Ed thought the same thing too. A knight in shining armour to save his failing sister. For a while she did better. Turns out she only quit the stuff cuz she was pregnant with me... but the moment she pushed me out, she was right back at it and she took my dad down with her. Got him hooked on heroin too. I was taken away and put in foster care cuz they would forget I even existed when they were fucked up... Days without food. Never clean. At least I don't really remember any of that..."

"I know what ya mean. Both Ma and Pa were drunks... Was jus me an' Daryl against the world for the most part..." Merle states, realizing for the first time that he had far more in common with Mitch than he could ever have imagined.

Mitch gives a small smile at Merle's attempt at empathy, "I wish that was all that... that bitch did to me but ya... She did get herself off the heroin and I was able to live with her again. It was fine for a bit, but you know, once an addict always and addict. This time she got her fix from having sex with random men, and lots of them. Started drinking too. That stuff never affected me or bothered me cuz at least I was always clothed and fed. But then I got tall and grew boobs and those creeps... Well was why I left home."

"Jesus... Looks like we both came from scum... Least ya did some good wit ya life... I jus jumped on into the scum pound..." Merle mutters.

Mitch shrugs, "We all have our vices..."

She is interrupted by Owen, who rushes into the room exclaiming, "Michelle, it's Ed. Come quick. Something's not right."

"I'll talk to you in the morning Merle. The bathroom is two doors to the left and lots to eat in the kitchen. Help yourself," Mitch says as she heads to Ed's room leaving Merle to be alone with his thoughts.


	9. Chapter 9

**_Chapter Nine: Reflections (Part One)_**

Merle reflects on the events in his life that have led him to this moment. He wonders what could cause him and Mitch to be so different. They both grew up with drug-addicted parents and had crappy childhoods, and yet Mitch seemed to have done something with her life while he stumbled and faltered at every chance he got. Her daddy's heroin habit killed him off while his Ma's drinking resulted in her turning into crispy barbecue that night she passed out on the couch while smoking. Her Ma occupied her time with booze and random men while his Pa kept busy with hooch and hookers. She had her uncles while he had Uncle Jessie,who would come around the trailer and help pick up the slack once Ma died. The biggest difference was that he had Daryl and she didn't.

Daryl. His baby brother. The person, other than himself, he cared most for in the world. The person he kept fighting to survive for. The only family he had left, the only family he ever really had. And yet, he had failed him, over, and over, and over again.

He remembers hating Daryl for the longest time. Ma really only picked up the pace with her vodka obsession shortly after Daryl came into the picture. Sure, she had had her weekly binges beforehand, but once there were two boys plus an asshole husband to take care of, the boozing became more of a nightly thing. It wasn't like she was an award winning mom to begin with, but seven year-old Merle noticed the rapid decline in her parenting and picked the easiest target to take all the blame.

It took until the time Daryl turned three that he finally started to accept him as his kin. Merle was then old enough to realize that Ma drank because of Pa and Pa drank because he was a failure. He figured that they only way the two brothers could survive would be if they stuck together. A lot of responsibility fell onto Merle's shoulders when it came to Daryl, and he initially resented it, hating always having the kid interfering with his activities. However, once Daryl could keep up with the pace, Merle found himself enjoying having someone to teach the fun things to. Daryl became the one he would spend his free time with. Going into the woods together, setting traps, tracking animals, and even hunting live prey were the things they truly bonded over. That, and reading their books which would take them away, even if only briefly, from their neglected home and negligent parents.

He did have his friends from school, but none of them seemed to have it as rough as him, so he had trouble relating to them. It also didn't help that he took out his pent up rage, built on the hate for his father, on the boys at school. After he pummelled the crap out of some kid Marty, when he was eight, kids started treating him differently. Only the tough "bad-boys" would dare befriend him because the rest were too shit-scared. Eventually, as he grew older, and subsequently stronger, the damage he inflicted upon his peers, the ones who dared step out of line around him, became more severe. In his heart he knew it all related back to the fact that his own beatings from Pa had become more brutal with each passing year. But part of him wanted to maintain the bad-ass image and he liked being respected by his boys, even if it was out of fear.

Merle shakes his head to get the image of Pa, looming over his body with a leather belt in hand, out of his mind. He can feel himself tense as the memory of his former self braces for the searing pain which will inevitable occur once the strap makes contact with the tender skin covering his back. And all because he gave Pa some lip or did poorly in school or forgot to do his chores or just looked at him funny.

The happiest day of his life had been the one where he had finally packed his bags and left that run-down trailer for good. Now, that day was also filled with regret. While he was able to escape the drunken, hardened, hateful hand of the Old Man, he subsequently left Daryl alone with that monster.

He always wondered whether or not that worthless piece-of-shit laid his dirty weathered hands on Daryl. Merle sure as hell never let Pa lay a finger on the kid when he was around, but between his stints in juvi, leaving for the military, then time spent in the big pen, he wasn't exactly home much. There were seven years between when Merle moved out and when Daryl was finally able to escape that hell-hole. Daryl never mentioned anything when he would drop in to visit. But, it wasn't exactly a topic to casually discuss over dinner. Dixon's weren't known as big talkers to begin with either, when it can to feelings anyway.

Merle lets out a groan as he runs his hand through his hair. He is filled with such remorse over leaving Daryl back then and from being separated from him now. He wonders where Daryl is and how he is doing. He knows Daryl is alive because Daryl is a Dixon, and only a Dixon can kill a Dixon. He is comforted by the fact that the kid is a survivor because he raised him that way.

The sound of someone entering the room jars him from his thoughts and it is only then that he realizes the outside light has faded and he has been sitting in the dark. He didn't think he had been reminiscing that long but is glad for the interruption. The Old Man and feelings of regret already occupied enough of his mind without him dwelling on it.

He smiles when he recognizes Mitch's shapely silhouette, now illuminated by the soft yellow light coming from the lantern held in her hands. He isn't sure whether or not it's the fact he hasn't gotten laid in months or if it's something about her, but he knows he wants to find out more about her, touch her, hold her, be with her, be in her...  
Her soft voice interrupts his train of thought, "Sorry I left so abruptly... Told you, you could get up out of bed when I didn't even unhook your IV..." She moves to the left side his of his bed and methodically unhooks the tubing from the needle site, then wraps his arm with gauze, leaving the access point in situ, "I want to give you another dose in the morning before taking the needle out and switching to pills... if that's ok?"

"Ya sure..." Merle doesn't give a fuck about the infection, what he wants is something to kill the throbbing pain in his arm that has been steadily worsening since he last took those pain pills, "Got anythang for pain?"

"Oh... I guess I forgot to tell you. I left a bottle of T3's by your bed. You can take two every four hours or so. Just try not to take more than that... You'll fry your liver," she says as she hands him the pills and a bottle of water, which had been sitting on the table.

He swallows a couple pills then asks, "How's ya uncle doin'?"

"He's dying. Won't be long now," she shrugs her shoulders when she notices Merle's eyes widen in surprise at her cold words, "Don't mistake my bluntness for not caring. I love my uncle dearly. It's just been a long time coming. He's suffering and I don't have a lot of medications left to keep him comfy. Not that easy to come by these days."

"True 'nough" Merle nods in agreement. He watches as Mitch wanders aimlessly around the small room, her mind clearly no longer in the vicinity. He enjoys the sway of her hips and wants to reach out and grab her tight ass and run his hand along her long slender legs. He wants to keep enjoying the show she is unknowingly putting on for him, but he is overcome by a far more pressing matter, "I gotta piss."

Mitch is abruptly brought back down to earth by Merle's statement and she turns to look at him, "Sorry. I shoulda asked. Here I'll help you to the bathroom."

She moves toward Merle who has already got himself out of the bed and into a standing position. Sick or not, no woman was going to haul his ass around, "Naw I'll be fine darlin', jus show me the way." Compared to earlier that morning, he felt like a new man. It no longer felt as though the room was spinning around like some sort of merry-go-round from hell and he didn't feel on the verge of falling over. He still felt weak and tired, and his arm still hurt like a bitch, but he was starting to feel like Merle again.

"Alrighty. Just follow me," Mitch says. As she eyes Merle up and down, her eyes twinkle with mischievousness and her smile becomes more of a smirk, "Might want to wrap yourself up a little more. Otherwise little Dixon might make an unexpected appearance."

He had forgotten that the only thing he was wearing was the skimpy hospital gown. He gives Mitch a devilish grin, "Maybe he wants ta come out an' play," finishing with his signature wink.

Mitch coyly smiles back, "Only if his owner is up to it. Now come on before you spring a leak."

The two walk out of the bedroom into the small apartment. He sees, for the first time since his arrival, that it is indeed a very old living space but that it has been loving cared for and kept very clean, even in the middle of the apocalypse. To his right is a kitchen similar to the one he encountered when he first entered the building, but much cleaner. Much to his delight he sees boxes and boxes of food stacked neatly against the one wall. He wonders whether or not his hosts will share some of their wealth when they part ways in the next day or two, although he knows he will be taking some supplies with him, one way or another. The furniture occupying the remaining space is sparse but looks comfortable enough. As they walk by the door to the left of his room, he sees Owen sitting beside a bed, holding hands with the person buried beneath the covers.

Mitch notices Merle's gaze and quietly says, "He hasn't left Uncle Ed's side since this morning," as they head into the bathroom which is the next door down.

Merle examines the bathroom. Toilet, sink, shower-tub combination, blue and white tile. The only thing out of the ordinary is the fact that the room is lit by another lantern, this one looks to be battery-powered. Wanting some privacy he states, "Should be ok now by muh-self."

"Ok. Well the water doesn't run from the taps anymore but I put a basin in the sink so you can wash yourself up. There is a black bucket filled with water beside the toilet to pour down when you flush. Need anything else?" Mitch asks as she starts to leave the room.

Merle calls out, "Some smokes would be nice..." Knowing full well the chances of her being able to find such a luxury in these damned times would be a miracle. Now that his body has begun to recuperate, he can feel the effects of nicotine withdrawal that had previously been masked by his horrendous infection and amputation pain.

"You know those things kill right?" She gives Merle a wink and adds, "But I'll see what I can do," and Mitch leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Once again, Merle is left alone with this thoughts.


	10. Chapter 10

**_Chapter Ten: Reflections (Part Two)_**  
Merle stares at his reflection in the dimly lit mirror. He never knew he could look so shitty and tired until now. Thankfully, most of the dirt and blood had been washed off his face and body, and he knows of only one person gracious enough to do such a thing. The thought of Mitch's hands on his body causes his penis to stir beneath the thin cloth covering his flesh. The smile that now plasters his face is a stark contrast to his sunken eyes, too-long stubble, and unkempt hair. Merle notices that Mitch left a razor and shaving cream by the sink, along with soap and washcloths. Clearly he wasn't the only one who thought he looked a little worse for wear.

Merle moves to the toilet and empties his bladder. He wonders how he had been pissing and shitting these last few days. He has absolutely no recollection of ever going to the bathroom but he knows even the sickest bodies still produce waste. He shakes his head and decides it was probably best not to know.

Back at the mirror, he washes his face with the room temperature water then slathers his ever-growing beard with shaving cream. He takes a deep breath as he grabs the razor and attempts to shave with his left hand, a task he had never thought he would need to do.

"Fuck!" he exclaims as he nicks his skin and a small trickle of blood begins to flow down his face. He continues to remove his thick salt-and-pepper coloured facial hair with the cheap plastic disposable razor. With each tiny laceration, caused by his inexperience shaving left-handedly, a barrage of swears escape his lips.

He hears a small knock on the door, followed by Mitch's pleasant voice, "You alright in there?"

"Could use a hand shavin'... since I only got one now..." He replies. He isn't too fond of needing help doing something so basic. Something he had been doing since he was fifteen. But from the amount of blood flowing down his face, he knows he could use some assistance.

Mitch cautiously enters the tiny bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She then gasps at the gruesome site of Merle's face, "Oh no... Oh Merle," she says softly as she picks up a cloth and presses it gently on the oozing nicks. Once the bleeding stops, she takes the razor from Merle's clenched fist, "Here, let me..."

Merle never thought letting someone shave his facial hair could be so sensual and sexual. Mitch stands between him and the sink, their bodies only inches apart. He can feel the heat radiating off her slender form. Her perky breasts occasionally brush across his broad chest as she expertly uses the razor to remove his beard. Mitch focuses on the task at hand, so much so that her eyes never leave Merle's lower face. Merle realizes he has an unobstructed, uninterrupted view of her youthful face and body, so he takes full advantage of it.

He quickly becomes captivated as he watches her work. He loves how she bites her lower lip each time she brings the blade to his face. He thinks she looks incredibly sexy with part of her lip between her teeth and is overcome by an urge to pull it out and nibble on the soft flesh with his own teeth. Merle resists the temptation, knowing he should at least wait until she is done shaving.

Mitch's left hand rests on the side of his face, gently guiding his head to prevent any further accidents. Merle can't help but notice how soft her skin is. He remembers how sweet and salty she had tasted when he had nuzzled her neck earlier and wonders if her flesh tastes the same on the rest of her scrumptious body.

He can feel her shallow breaths on his neck and upper chest. The small puffs of air tickle his skin and cause goosebumps to form. Merle can feel his penis beginning to harden and desperately wants to press it against her so she can feel his want for her. Once again, he resists temptation, but his breathing quickens in correspondence with his growing desire. He can feel that Mitch's breathing is also more rapid and he wonders if she too has a sexual desire burning within. Their breathing eventually becomes synced, their chests moving up and down in tandem, as though they were one.

Mitch tilts Merle's head upward in order to gain access to the stubble under his chin. He glances into the mirror and is able to see her backside. He is tempted to place his hand on the smooth curve of her lower back and run his hand along the roundness of her firm ass. He uses his last bit of willpower to hold off, knowing that the owner of that fine ass is currently holding a blade to his neck. He shifts his eyes once more and focuses back on Mitch's face. Her lower lip now appears slightly swollen from being bitten so often and Merle knows he can't resist much longer.

Mitch moves her left hand down to his chest and turns her body toward the sink. She puts the razor down and grabs a washcloth, moistening it with water. She turns back toward Merle and tenderly wipes away the excess shaving cream. Their eyes lock and a wave of sexual tension passes between them.

Mitch smiles and starts to say, "There that's much..."

But Merle's needs are far too pressing. For the last several minutes, this woman has been driving him crazy and he is hornier than hell. He swiftly slides his hand behind her head, pulls her toward him and envelopes her lush lips with his own, before she can finish her sentence.

Mitch's eyes initially widen in surprise but softly close as the kiss deepens, both of them becoming consumed with passion. Merle presses his tongue against her soft lips and can briefly taste the strawberry flavoured lip gloss coating her lips before she parts them, allowing his tongue to invade her mouth. Their tongues dance together and their breathing becomes more laboured as lust invades their bodies. Merle presses up against Mitch, forcing her backward, until she is up against the sink. She lets out a short gasp when her bare thighs make contact with the cool porcelain. He slowly slides his hand down her back until it rests on her ass. He then squeezes it, becoming even more turned on by the feel of her curves.

Without interrupting the swapping of saliva, he moves his hand underneath her thigh and tries to boost her up onto the sink. However, with only one hand, he is unable to lift her and mentally curses the bastards that caused him this trouble. Those thoughts are quickly abolished as Mitch lifts herself up onto the countertop and pulls Merle between her now spread legs.

He can feel the growing warmth being emitted from Mitch's pussy through her denim shorts and smirks, enjoying the fact that he can still turn on a woman, especially one as fine as Mitch. He presses his cock into the spot where her long sexy legs come together and Mitch lets a moan escape her mouth. This further fuels Merle's passion as he begins to gyrate against Mitch. Their tongues continue to swirl around their mouths as they take in one another's ragged breaths. Mitch runs her fingers through Merle's hair then wraps her arms around his thick neck, pulling his body even closer to hers.

Merle continues to rub his cock against Mitch, feeling himself become longer and harder, his need to be inside her becoming all the more potent. He knows he is hitting her sweet spot by the ever increasing amount of moans being vocalized by the woman. He can also feel the warm moisture forming at the crotch of her jeans.

Suddenly, the flimsy hospital gown he had been wearing drops to the floor. He had been so wrapped up in dry humping Mitch that he hadn't noticed her untying the garment. For the first time since their tongues initially became entwined, Mitch breaks away from their heated kiss, when she places her hands on his chest and pushes their bodies apart. Merle is initially disappointed by this, until he realizes what the vixen is up to.

Mitch slowly climbs off the sink and briefly stands before Merle. She seductively runs her hands along Merle's chest and firm stomach, going lower and lower with each pass of her hands. Just as her hands graze the start of his pubic hair, Mitch begins to lower her body until she is kneeling in front of Merle's naked body, her head in line with his impressive erection.

She looks up at Merle and slowly and seductively licks her lips before wrapping her moistened lips around his fully erect penis. Her eyes remain locked onto Merle's as she swirls her tongue around the head of his manhood. He can't help but let loose a series of grunts and moans as Mitch caresses the tip of his cock with her tongue, all the while maintaining eye contact, something that had always drove him wild with want.

Seeing that she had the desired effect on the man, a smile forms at the corners of Mitch's lips. Her tongue leaves the tip of his larger-than-average cock and begins to run along the length of his shaft. Merle's eyes roll into his head as he is overcome with pleasure. Now that he has broken their eye-contact, Mitch's gaze falls on his throbbing member and Merle becomes even more turned-on at the sight of this beautiful woman enjoying his penis almost as much as he is enjoying her mouth.

Merle looks up and sees his reflection in the mirror yet again. His mouth forms a giant smirk at being able to see himself getting a blow job. He watches as Mitch's head bobs back and forth, having now taken his cock into her mouth. He places his hand on her head and starts to guide her head back and forth, until his now thrusting hips are in sync with her mouth movements.

Merle can feel his pleasure growing and knows his orgasm won't be long if Mitch maintains this toe-curling pace. He tries to pull back in order to prolong this experience but Mitch grabs onto his ass, keeping him in place. He feels her tongue circling around his cock at the same time Mitch moves her mouth, taking him in deeper and deeper. Their movements become faster and faster until Merle can feel he is on the brink of the inevitable. Suddenly his body tenses as wave after wave of pleasure rush over him and he can feel his essence spill into her mouth. He smiles as he feels her swallow his cum. He always did prefer swallowers over spitters.

It takes a few moments for Merle to regain his composure as he leans against the cool tiled wall, his breathing slows until it is at its usual rate and rhythm. In that time, Mitch has rearranged herself and now stands before Merle, a small smile graces her lips but her eyes are filled with mixed emotions. Merle pulls Mitch toward him by the waist and attempts to unbutton her shorts, wanting to return the favour to the woman who had just sent him over the edge.

Mitch pushes Merle away. He registers that her eyes are filled with concern and he briefly wonders why. His question is soon answered as Mitch softly says, "You have no idea how much I want you to... Really... But you look a bit pale... I think you need to get back to bed before you pass out on me," she sweetly kisses him on his cheek then grins, "I told you that you couldn't handle me, old man."

As much as Merle hates to admit it, Mitch was right. That had been the most excitement and physical activity Merle had experienced in days, and his body was feeling it. However, he sure as hell wasn't an old man and to prove that point, he swiftly smacks Mitch's ass.

Mitch smiles at his playfulness then tosses Merle a clean pair of pajama pants and a white t-shirt. He reluctantly allows her to help him get dressed but is secretly happy because even the most mundane tasks have become difficult now that he has only one hand.

Merle sighs as Mitch opens the door, grabs his hand, and leads him out of the bathroom back toward his bed.


	11. Chapter 11

**_Chapter Eleven: Owen_**

On their way back to the bedroom, Mitch checks in on her Uncle Ed and Owen. When she comes back out of the dying man's room, she has a somber look on her face, "Uncle Ed doesn't have much time... Owen really needs me in there with him, he's not coping very well. Sorry Merle, you'll have to head to bed on your own," she states, sounding almost as disappointed as Merle feels.

He was hoping to convince her he was well enough to continue with their lust-filled activities. Even though Mitch had satisfied some of his needs, he was itching for more. However, the moment his body hits the bed, he welcomes the notion of sleep, now realizing how utterly fatigued he is. He thinks sleep will come right away but after several minutes he is still wide awake. His mind continues to race with thoughts of Mitch.

There was something that attracted him to her. He had never felt this way about a woman, especially one he had known for only a matter of days. At first, he thought his feelings had to do with the fact that he was horny and hadn't been with a woman in ages. Now that he had gotten off, he knew that wasn't entirely the case. He wonders what was wrong with him to be getting soft on some chick. Especially now, during the fucking apocalypse of all times. And a woman at least fifteen years younger than his experienced self, although, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

He knows he has to leave the apartment soon. The longer he waits around here, the higher the chances of never finding Daryl and the harder it will be to leave Mitch and the comforts of her home. He decides he will leave tomorrow, after the medical crap is taken care of. After finalizing his choice, Merle is finally able to drift off into dreamland.

He awakens after only a few hours of sleep because his stump is causing him an insurmountable amount of pain. He feels around the bedside table until he locates the lantern and switches it on. The soft glow being emitted from the battery-operated light allows him to see the bottle of pain pills. He reaches out to grab the narcotics and ends up knocking his water bottle to the ground.

"For fucks sake," he mutters under his breath as he gets out of bed. As he opens the bedroom door he notices light coming from the kitchen area. He sees a shadowy figure sitting at the table and immediately recognizes the person as Owen.

The floor creaks as he takes a step forward which causes the man to look up. Merle sees that Owen's eyes are red and puffy, his face tear-streaked. The smile that has started to form on the elderly man's face quickly vanishes as he focuses on Merle. He mumbles, looking down at his hands, "Oh... Thought you were Michelle... "

Merle ignores Owen's less than favourable attitude and begins to rummage through the kitchen cupboards. He finds the water bottles and immediately cracks one open. He takes a handful of pain pills he had stored in his pocket and washes them down with the room temperature liquid. He begins to head back to his room when the sound of Owen clearing his throat causes his to stop and turn toward the older man.

"Got somethang ya wanna say ta me?" Merle coolly asks.

Owen's eyes are still glossy with unshed tears yet the look he gives Merle is still firm and powerful, "Yes. Don't hurt my Michelle. Her heart can't handle much more pain..."

Merle shakes his head, "Watch ya tongue nigga'. Don't ya be tellin' me what ta do..." He isn't sure what infuriates him more, the tone Owen used with him or the fact that he referred to Mitch as 'his Michelle'.

"Her and Ed are all I've got," the man says shakily, his voice cracks and tears begin to fall freely down his face.

Merle was never comfortable around emotional people, especially when grown men cried. He was never a very intuitive person, but he knows Owen's outburst had more to do with his butt-buddy being on the brink of death than how Mitch spent her time. Merle mutters, "I'll be outta ya hair ta-morra'. Just rememba' I neva' asked for ya help."

"But we did help you. Now you are here. Now you need to help us. And for whatever reason, Michelle likes to be around you. You make her feel safe and I believe… I think you are her best chance at making it through this thing," the elderly man says quietly as he wipes the tears away from his cheeks.

Merle smiles inwardly but maintains a scowl on his face. He was flattered that the man thought he could protect Mitch, but that didn't change how he felt toward him. No one spoke to Merle that way. His stomach suddenly begins to grumble, his hunger hitting him like a ton of bricks.

As Merle opens the first cupboard to begin his search, Owen states, "The canned food is in the boxes by the wall. I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot… How about we talk while you eat…"

He finds a can of beef stew, cracks it open, and then sits down in the chair opposing Owen. He begins to eat the chunks of meat and vegetables with his hands, cutlery was a luxury out there in the chaos, so he doesn't think twice about his actions. He notices Owen staring at him while holding out a spoon. Merle snatches up the spoon and grumbles, "Thank ya."  
Owen sighs, takes a deep breath in order to regain some composure, and then states, "Michelle is very special to me. I would give my own life to keep her safe. And as much as we don't see eye to eye, I know you can keep her safe. I know you are a survivor and would be able to protect her. So I am asking you, please don't leave. I can't protect her on my own…"

Merle finishes off his meal before speaking, "Naw. She ain't muh problem. I got muh own thangs ta tend to…"

"Take her with you then!" the urgency in Owen's voice is now evident in his pleas, "I've been watching those things down there. There are more and more each day. So far they have ignored us because we keep quiet but it won't be long before… The safest place is away from the city but… I'm growing old... I can't protect Michelle in the way you can… We wouldn't get more than a few blocks before…"

"Old man, ya betta' shut ya trap before I shut it for ya. Nobody tells Merle what ta do 'cept Merle," his anger was beginning to boil over. It wasn't so much the words Owen was spewing from his mouth but rather the way he was saying them. In fact, he kind of liked the idea of taking Mitch away from this death trap, but he was now too angry to thoroughly discuss that idea.

"I'm not telling you anything Merle, I'm asking you… I'm begging you! Please! Take Michelle…" Owen's words fade away into nothingness as Merle storms away from the kitchen and into his room, slamming the door behind him. He knows if he heard one more word out of that black shit's mouth he would no longer be liable for his actions.  
Merle abruptly lays on the bed still seething with anger. However, before he can reflect on everything Owen said, the combination of a full stomach and half-a-dozen codeine enriched pills causes him to drift off into a dreamless sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

**_Chapter Twelve: Parting Gifts_**  
The smell of porridge cooking invades Merle's nostrils, gently bringing him back from his dreams to reality. The sunshine sneaking into the room tells him it is early morning, so he relaxes knowing he has plenty of time to prepare for his impending journey. He slowly gets out of bed and pops a few pain pills before entering the apartment's common space. His arm still hurt him terribly, but the pain was becoming more tolerable with each passing day.

He sees Mitch sitting at the table, in the same spot he had encountered Owen during the night. She quickly notices his presence and looks up at him, a warm smile on her face. Merle is slightly taken aback by her appearance. Her eyes are sunken and dull with heavy bags underneath, her usual glow now dulled after having spent the night awake tending to the needs of her uncles. He wonders if Owen informed her about their conversation.

His question is quickly answered as Mitch says cheerfully, "Morning Merle. Owen told me you two had a talk during the night..."

"Ya... The fuck is that guys problem?" Merle hisses as he pulls out a chair and sits down beside Mitch, pissed off that the old man had to go blabbing about their conversation. He digs into the bowl of still steaming porridge set out for him, chowing down hurriedly, as though he hadn't eaten in days.

"Well you did call him a faggot, among other derogatory things," Mitch shakes her head, "You can be such an asshole you know."

"Well he shouldn't be tellin' me what ta do..." Merle grumbles between mouthfuls of food.

Mitch shrugs, "Give him a break ok? He's been having a rough time, between Ed and the undead... Just lay off ok?"

"Fine… I'ma leavin' today anyway. Best ta jus get outta everyone's hair," Merle says as he pushes away from the table and stands.

"I know… Owen told me… Merle... You don't need to go..." Mitch pleas. The hurt and desperation in her voice causes Merle to turn back around and face her.

"Ya I do. Have ta find muh brother...But… Ya should come with me," the words escape his mouth before he realizes what he was saying. What the hell was he thinking? Asking her to come with him when she'd just be a liability, likely to get herself, him, or them both killed. However, those doubts immediately vanish as he watches Mitch's eyes light up, full of hope, transforming her pretty face into something of astounding beauty. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad having Mitch around. They could find Daryl and the three of them could go off on their own, survive off the land.

The fantasy playing in his mind comes to a jarring halt as he stops and listens to what Mitch has been saying, "I can't... I can't leave Owen and Uncle Ed... Especially now that Ed doesn't have much longer..." She sees the devastated look on Merle's face, so in an attempt to lessen his disappointment, she adds, "I want to... But I can't. I'll help you pack some supplies though… When were you planning on leaving?"

"Uhhh this..."

Before Merle can finish, Owen's cries of distress cause Mitch to jump from her seat and rush into the bedroom. "Hurry! Something's wrong!" Owen's screeches reverberate throughout the apartment.

Merle sits alone at the table and decides that he will leave soon. He spots a duffle bag lying on the floor by the boxes and picks it up. He assumes Mitch got it out for him to use since it wasn't there during the night. He begins to rummage through the boxes of supplies, picking out the cans of food he finds most appealing, and sets the chosen ones on the floor. He opens the bag and is about to toss in a few cans of hearty stew in when he notices that the bag wasn't empty to begin with.

A smile forms on his face as he identifies the objects only Mitch could have placed in the bag. He wonders where the hell she would have found them and knows she must have put some effort into this parting gift. Merle pulls a cigarette out of the half-full pack of smokes and sets it aflame with the Zippo lighter she also included. Just when he thought his day couldn't get any better, he grabs the book which had been nestled in one of the corners of the bag. The lit cigarette falls from his open mouth as he reads the title of the tattered book. He quickly picks up the fallen fire hazard and places it back in his mouth, inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm his shaken nerves. He begins to leaf through the yellowed pages of _The Adventures of Tom Sawyer_, and is unsure whether or not the nicotine he is inhaling will be enough to steady him.

When he reads the message Mitch had written inside the cover of his favourite book, he can feel his eyes swell with tears and the words, "Merle, be sure to give this to Daryl when you find him. Never forget how important family is," become blurry. He uses every last ounce of willpower and somehow manages to keep those tears inside. Crying was for pussies as Pa always said. Then again, no one had ever done something so thoughtful or insightful for him. He knows he doesn't deserve to be treated as such, but can't help but be filled with joy.

He moves to the couch and tries to read his new treasure, but the conflicting emotions bubbling within finally boil over, and he can't focus on the printed words. He wants to take Mitch with him because he is starting to like her and it wouldn't hurt to have a hot piece of ass around for the occasional fuck. However, if he were to take her away, that would mean he would be following Owen's command, and that just flat out pisses him off. With only one hand, it would be helpful to have another person around to help out with everything, including killing those rotting bastards that have invaded the world. Then again, Mitch didn't seem like the type to know how to fire a gun or be ballsy enough to lobotomize those creeps, so she might end up being more of a burden than anything. Merle sighs and decides to not decide. He wasn't planning on leaving right away which gave enough time for things to sort themselves out.

He attempts to read again. This time he is able to focus on the words. He is swept away in his beloved literary adventure as he read the words, "Tom! No answer. Tom!..."


	13. Chapter 13

**_Chapter Thirteen: Decision _**  
He awakens to someone gently nudging his shoulder, "Merle wake up... You need your antibiotics..."

Merle opens his eyes to find Mitch standing in front of him, her face tear-streaked and eyes sad. He groans as he sits up, stretching his arms and cracking his neck. His mouth is dry from sleeping with it open so when he speaks it comes out as a croak, "Your uncle?"

"He died about an hour ago… Owen won't leave his body... I'm not sure what to do..." Her voice cracks but she holds back the tears. She flops down beside Merle on the couch, "I didn't think this was going to be so hard..."

He is unsure of what to say to the grieving woman, he was never good with emotional people. Part of him wanted to comfort the distressed woman and part of him desperately wanted to fuck her. He remembers how he once heard that a woman was more apt to put out during certain times and after an aunt's funeral was one of them. He reckoned an uncle's death was virtually the same, so no harm in putting on the heat. Merle drapes his arm around her shoulders and smirks as she snuggles in next to his body. Guess there was some truth to that myth after all. The two sit in silence for several moments. Just as Merle is about to make his next move, Mitch slides his arm off her body and pushes herself off the couch.

Her voice is laced with melancholy as she says, "I guess I should change your dressing if you're planning on heading out soon..."

Merle shrugs, "I ain't in no hurry. Looks like I slept mosta the day away," he hadn't planned on napping but at some point while he was reading, he had drifted off to asleep. From the growing darkness entering the apartment, it was already evening, and he really didn't want to leave before getting some action, "Probably leave in the mornin'. Don't wanna be out on them streets in the dark."

Mitch's face lights up momentarily. Merle can't help but smirk at the notion that someone wants him around for a change. She tries to hide her obvious joy by casually saying, "Good cuz I think you could really use some more rest... Let's get your dressing changed."

Once the medical stuff was completed, including the removal of the needle in his arm, the pair move to the kitchen. Merle takes a seat at the table as Mitch scrounges up something to eat for supper. As much as he wants to try his hand at sealing the deal with Mitch, he knows he can't push her too hard since her uncle had just died. He knows he has to wait for her to come to him like she had done before. Merle lights one of his smokes and inhales, enjoying the sweet plumes of smoke more than ever before. Back in the day, he would go through one or two packs a day, but now that cigarettes weren't so easy to come by, he had been pacing out the pack of smokes. Even so, he had already burned through four cigarettes. Merle watches Mitch's body as she scurries around the kitchen preparing their meal. He knows she must be hurting because for once she isn't constantly smiling. The small smiles she occasionally sends his way every time she catches him checking her out don't reach her cloudy eyes. On several occasions, he notices a buildup of tears starting to form and he is sure she is about to lose it. However, before those salty droplets could fall, Mitch would blink them away and busy herself with rummaging purposelessly through the cupboards. Merle isn't sure what to make of Mitch's attempts to hide her emotions from him, but he knows he would be doing the exact same thing if he were in her position. Crying is for the weak and the weak are first to die.

They eat a meal of pasta and canned meat sauce, exchanging a few words here and there. In order to lighten the mood, Merle tells the story of about the first time he got sent to juvi. He gets a half-smile from Mitch as he explains how he had hot-wired his old principal's car and then drove by the old coot's house over and over, with his bare ass hanging out the driver's window, for hours. He smirks as he tells her that his joy-ride came to a screeching halt once he drove through the guy's fence and smashed into his oversized cat statue everyone hated.

"Trouble from the get go? I can only imagine the looks on people's faces..." Mitch giggles and the pair erupt into laughter. Suddenly, as though she is overcome with guilt for laughing during such a somber time, she pushes herself away from the table. She sighs and her eyes become overcast with sadness, "I really need to go check on Owen. He still hasn't left Ed's bedside… He really needs to eat… what the fuck am I supposed to do with the body…"

Before Merle can make any suggestions, Mitch disappears into the bedroom. Merle turns on one of the lanterns scattered throughout the tiny apartment in order illuminate the shadows that have begun creeping in from the windows. He tries to read his book again but he can't quite seem to get back into the story. He decides there is nothing better to do so he heads to his room and jumps into bed.


	14. Chapter 14

**_Chapter Fourteen: Grind_**  
"Merle... Merle... Wake up... I need you."

His eyes shoot open, thinking something must be wrong by the urgency in Mitch's voice. When he sees her standing beside his bed wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and devious grin on her face, he relaxes.

Seeing that he is awake, Mitch puts something down on the bedside table then crawls into Merle's bed, straddling his body. She leans down and starts to passionately kiss Merle, who is now fully awake. He welcomes her tongue into his mouth, and is overwhelmed by the taste of whiskey.

As their tongues dart in and out of each other's mouths, the predominant flavour he has been tasting in Mitch's saliva finally becomes too much to handle. Merle pushes away from her and, already knowing the answer, asks, "Been drinkin'?" If there was booze around, he sure as hell wanted some. His arm was killing him and the bottle of pain medication was running low, so every little thing helped, alcohol included.

"Just needed a couple shots to gain some courage… so I could try and change your mind… to get you to stay… among other things… You want some?" she slurs slightly as she poses the question. She then grabs the half-empty bottle of booze and Merle snatches it out of her hands before she can take another drink.

He swallows several long swigs of the light-brown liquid. He enjoys the familiar burn as the alcohol travels down his throat and into his stomach. He can already feel the effects of the alcohol starting to take place, his body no longer accustomed to good stuff. It had been a couple weeks since they had last come across a bottle of the hard liquor. He didn't waste his time with those other pussy drinks. Mitch grabs the now near-empty bottle from Merle, takes a drink, and then puts in down on the floor. Merle lets out a chuckle as the woman pounces on him like a bitch in heat. He was usually the aggressor and it was nice being the one pursued for a change. Mitch wraps her arms around his neck and the two resume passionately kissing.

As their tongues twirl and swirl in each other's mouths, their breathing becomes more rapid. Merle runs his hand along Mitch's thigh until it finds her firm ass, which much to Merle's delight, is already bare. The fact that the only thing covering her body is an over-sized t-shirt drives him wild. He squeezes her firm flesh, pulling her body closer to him. Mitch's hands slowly make their way down to the hem of his shirt. In one swift motion she pulls the garment up and over his head, tossing it to the floor. She runs her hands along his muscular chest and broad shoulders, her touch further arousing the already erect Merle. As Mitch nibbles on his ear, seductively trailing her tongue in and around its numerous ridges and folds, Merle runs his hand up her back, grabbing at the cotton shirt, in an attempt to remove the damned piece of clothing.

Mitch senses his struggle, so she leans back and takes the bottom of the t-shirt in her hands. Her eyes do all the talking in that moment as she slowly and seductively pulls off the faded grey shirt, momentarily interrupting their heated glance when she pulls it up and over her head. Merle inhales deeply at the sight of her porcelain skin glistening in the moonlight shining through the boarded up window. "Damn guuurrrlll," he groans at the sight of her bountiful breasts, bouncing slightly with each ragged breath Mitch breathes.

Merle can't help but reach out and run his fingers along her body. He slides his hand up the smooth skin of her back and works his way around to her front. His touch causes goosebumps to form along its pathway and Mitch shudders from the buildup of sexual tension. Merle caresses her firm supple breasts, starting with the left then moving to the right. He briefly thinks about how much easier everything, including sex, was with two hands but quickly forgets those depressing thoughts as Mitch moans in pleasure and arches her back, bringing their bodies even closer together. Merle moves his mouth to her breast, playfully licking her hardened nipple before taking it into his mouth. As Merle swirls his tongue around Mitch's nipple, he can feel his throbbing erection pushing against his pants, desperate to come out and play.

As though on cue, Mitch slides her hands, which had been draped around Merle's neck, down along his burly torso, working their way to the front of his slacks. As one hand unfastens the buttons, the other slides inside and immediately comes into contact with his hardened cock. Mitch wraps her hand around his impressive girth and starts to firmly stroke his shaft. With the buttons now undone, Mitch slides her other hand down the loosened pants and begins to expertly use both hands to manipulate his cock and balls, causing waves of pleasure to course through his body.

Merle trails his tongue up along her slender neck and engulfs her swollen lips with his mouth. His hand, which hand been resting on Mitch's ass as he tongued her nipples, teasingly moves toward her moistened pubic area. He slides a finger between her already wet folds and caresses her clit after finding that precious bundle of nerves with the precision only experienced men can exhibit. Despite the barrage of stimulation, Mitch continues to move her hand up and down the length of Merle's shaft, occasionally rubbing the head of his cock with her thumb. Merle circles Mitch's clit over and over, gradually picking up speed. He slides two fingers into her, relishing in her wetness, and begins to move them in and out while continuing to rub her clit with his thumb. Their breathing becomes more laboured, forcing apart their kiss. The two stare into each other's eyes as they mutually masturbate one another, as though in competition over who will break first. As he continues to stare into her sparkling hazel eyes, he desperately wants for his cock to replace his fingers which continue to massage in and around Mitch's dripping-wet pussy.

Merle knows he can't last much longer playing this game, his desire to stick his cock inside her is becoming overpowering. When Mitch abruptly lets go of his prized appendage and moves her body away, he breathes a sigh of relief. Their heavy petting has finally come to a halt. He can't help but smirk as he thinks, "I win"

Mitch seductively licks her lips as she pulls down Merle's pants. His penis, which had been poking through the loosened garment, springs upward as it is finally fully released from the confines of the clothing. Mitch quickly works the pants down Merle's muscularly defined legs then tosses them haphazardly onto the floor. She moves her spry body until she is straddling his body, her pelvic region hovering mere inches above his massive erection. Merle wishes now more than ever that he had both hands. He desperately wants to guide her curvy hips down onto him so he can finally be in her. However, the most he can manage is to grab her left ass cheek and pull her in a bit closer to his cock.

Mitch reaches over to the bedside table, purposely pushing her chest into Merle's face, who then trails his tongue between the firm breasts. She grabs a condom that she had sneakily placed there earlier. As she tears the foil package open and grabs the lubricated piece of latex, she breathes, "I need to fuck you now... and I'm going to fuck you hard…"

Mitch stares into his eyes as she slides the condom along the length of his cock. It is only then that Merle recognizes something hiding behind her lust-filled hazels. Anger, hate, sadness, anxiety, maybe fear. He, more than anyone, knows that sometimes a good-old fashioned fucking is the only thing that can make you feel better when you are going through a rough patch. She wasn't going to be fucking him because she wanted him, she was going to be fucking him because she needed to get something out of her system. Merle was more than fine with that, as long as it meant he was getting into her pussy.

She leans forward and deeply kisses Merle as she expertly guides her hips, taking him inside her moistened crevasse. The two moan simultaneously as he slowly begins to fill her pussy with his cock. Mitch begins to rock her pelvis, slowly taking him in deeper with every movement. The moment her body finishes accepting his girth and length, her insides now stretched to accommodate all of him, she begins to gyrate faster. Merle leans back against the cool wooden bedframe as he watches the woman guilty use him, working toward her own release. Mitch grinds her pelvis against Merle, in quick circular motions, rhythmically hastening the pace as the burning need grows within her. Her eyes are closed, her mind a million miles away, but Merle doesn't give a fuck as long as she continues to fuck his cock with her pussy.

He can feel her entire body begin to tense, her breathing becomes much more ragged, so he knows she is about to reach her peak. He slides his hand, which had been fondling her breasts, downward until he finds her clit with his thumb. The additional pressure he applies immediately sends Mitch over the edge as she begins to orgasm, wave after wave of ecstasy flood her being. He can feel the contracting of her vagina and relishes in the additional tightness, his own buildup nearing the brink of no-return.

Merle, who had been letting her do all the work, now thrusts his hips against her, forcing her to take all of him in during the throes of her climax. She arches her back and releases a long, drawn out moan. Her animalistic vocalizations add fuel to the burning fire Merle can feel low down in his pelvis and he realizes there is no going back from this. He continues to rapidly plunge himself into Mitch who is now leaning back, grabbing onto his legs for support. Merle slides his hand up along her firm stomach and grabs onto one of her breasts being showcased by her current position.

"Oh… Oh… Merle… Fuck me harder…" Mitch moans as her nails dig into his muscular calves. He slams into her over and over and over again, her pussy still vibrating from her original release.

"Fuuuccckkkk…" he groans as he explodes inside her. His body shudders from the discharge of a few months' worth of pent up sexual energy. He grinds against her, slowing his pace as the pulsating sensation of his seed being spend begins to subside. Merle collapses into the bed, his body now thoroughly exhausted, and Mitch gently falls against him. The only sound that can be heard is that of their breathing as the two lay unmoving, the rise and fall of their chests slowly slowing to a more normal pace.

Mitch nuzzles against Merle until she is resting against him with her head on his shoulder. Merle immediately feels uncomfortable at such closeness. He was never one to enjoy post-coital cuddling. However, his ability to examine her beautifully exposed body causes him to ignore that initial urge to push her away and jump out of bed. His eyes trail along her still sweaty flesh. He admires her perky breasts and wants to once again touch them, but is unable to reach out, his sole hand now trapped underneath her. Instead, his explores her body with his eyes which then move to her toned stomach, stopping at a long horizontal scar just above her pelvis. He hadn't noticed it before but that was because he had been wrapped up in the heat of the moment. However, he had been with enough women from various walks of life to guess how she sustained it. His eyes continue downward, landing on her pussy, still moist from their fucking. He licks his lips as he envisions what she tastes like. He sighs at the thought of leaving behind such a fine piece of ass. But he had made his choice and she had made hers.

He leans his head back further into the pillow as a puzzled look comes across his face. Even though he had found his release and had fun while doing it, part of him did not feel fully satisfied. He wanted more, but he wasn't sure what more was. A hit of coke or a bowl of meth would probably clear his mind so he could figure out what exactly it was he needed. But he had neither. He had actually been feeling off since waking up in this place and wonders why. Eventually he attributes his feelings toward being sick and is about to ask Mitch about it when he realizes her breathing has turned into soft snores. He shrugs, figuring he could ask her in the morning before he left. He closes his eyes and his snores can soon be heard alongside those of Mitch.


	15. Chapter 15

**_Chapter Fifteen: Goodbye_**  
A screeching shriek pierces Merle's dreams as he and Mitch are startled awake. He quickly jumps out of bed, pulling on his pants, and looks around the room for something to defend himself with. Mitch is slower to rise but a second blood-curdling sound forces her into high gear as she pulls on her oversized t-shirt.

Having found nothing to use as a weapon, the two cautiously open the bedroom door. More noises can be heard coming from Ed and Owen's bedroom. "Oh god," Mitch cries as she flings open the door and rushes into the room with such purpose and determination.

Merle follows quickly behind, ready to fight off the source behind those awful cries. Mitch's eyes finally adjust to the darkened room and she comes to a dead halt. Merle almost pummels into her frozen body. "Ya stupid bitch…" he starts to say but the words turn to glue in his mouth as his eyes fall upon the carnage occurring within the room.

Merle reacts immediately, gently pushing the traumatized Mitch aside, out of harm's way. He grabs one of the lamps standing beside the door and cautiously steps further into the room. His stomach turns at the copious amount of blood saturating the floor and spraying the walls, but he does not vomit. He always prided himself on having a stomach of steel. A couple feet away, Owen lay flat on the ground beside the bed. A chunk of his lower neck is missing and blood is spewing from the wound. Merle can't help but feel sorry for the guy, no one, not even a faggot douchebag with a running mouth, deserved to go out this way. Despite the profuse amount of blood spraying from his injury, Owen continues to try and fight off his assailant. Sadly, his weakened hands are doing nothing to deter the crouching attacker who hovers over his body, clawing ferociously into the dying man's abdomen.

Merle had never seen Ed before, but from the light brown hair and face eerily resembling Mitch's, he immediately knows the reanimated corpse is him. Merle wonders what the hell he should next, Mitch's cries of horror make it harder for his to focus. However, as the emaciated already-dead body looks up from its meal and the two lock eyes, he knows. He walks up to the snarling creature which had begun crawling toward him and Mitch, drawn by the scent of fresher meat. In spite of having only the hand, the brute strength behind his swing of the lamp knocks back the assailant, sending its rotting corpse sailing through the air before slamming into the back wall. Merle stalks toward the thing formally known as Ed, which is now angrily snarling as it attempts to untangle its crumpled body, in order to finish the job. From the corner of his eye, he notices Mitch rush toward Owen and secretly hopes she gets to him in time to say goodbye.

Merle swings several times, each blow landing precisely on the corpse's head between its sunken, milky eyes. Eventually the ruthless attack renders the creature motionless, dead for good. With the threat eliminated, Merle turns his attention toward the massacred body of Owen. Despite his fatal injuries, defining all odds, he continues to breath, albeit irregularly and shallow. His hands still claw weakly at the air.

Mitch cradles Owen's body, pressing her hands against his neck wound, "Oh Owen I'm so sorry... I don't understand... Uncle Ed wasn't bite... Owen... I... I... Love you... You and Uncle Ed… You weren't just my uncles… you were my dads… I… Goodbye Owen… It's ok to let go now..."

Owen stops clawing aimlessly at the air, his panic subsides at the sound of Mitch's voice. He looks up at his niece and gurgles, "I... Love... Mich... Go..." A bloody coughing fit interrupts his final words. With that he takes his final breath and his body falls limp in Mitch's arms.

Merle crouches down beside Mitch and puts his hand on her shoulder, "We need to..."

"I can't..." Mitch protests, clinging to her deceased uncle, "I can't leave..."

"You hear that?" Merle questions. They both fall silent and the moaning and groaning of the undead can be heard. It's volume steadily increasing with each passing moment. Merle urgently continues, "The screaming musta drawn them here. We need ta go now before this place is surrounded... And before Owen turns..."

Her moistened eyes grow large as she realizes the terrible predicament they have now found themselves in. However, she remains seated next to the lifeless Owen, cradling his bloodied torso and stroking his hair with her fingers. She swallows, holding back the tears on the verge of falling from her beautiful eyes, "We can't let Owen become one of those things... I won't leave until we take care of him..."

Merle nods and quietly leaves the room. He returns seconds later with a knife in hand, one he found in the kitchen. He kneels beside the corpse and steadies the blade above Owen's dead eye.

Mitch reaches out and grabs the blade from Merle's hand, "No. I'll do it. Just give me some time alone... There are some backpacks in the hallway closet. You might as well start loading up supplies..."

Merle squeezes her shoulder then leaves her alone to finish the gruesome task ahead. He finds the bags and quickly fills them with an assortment of non-perishable food items and water bottles. He places the bags beside the front door then heads back into the room designated temporarily as his. He throws on the clothing he had been wearing when he first stumbled upon this apartment complex a week ago. The fabric smells of laundry detergent and he momentarily enjoys the feeling of the soft, freshly-washed material against his skin. He had been wearing the same outfit for weeks before Mitch stripped them off him and somehow managed to wash the grunge and grim out of them. He stuffs the cargo pants' pockets with his pain pills and checks the holster for his knife. The long blade glistens in the moonlight. The woman even fucking scrubbed the dried gunk off his knife.

He peers through the cracks in the window down into the streets below. Even though it is the middle of the night, the almost full moon illuminates the dozen bodies, all of which are in various states of decay, clawing at the building. The fact that they are so desperate to gain access to the living residing inside sends a chill down Merle's spine. One bastard has been scrapping so vigorously at the brick wall that it has worn away the moldering flesh on its arms. And yet, it continuous to scratch at the building, trying to get in, with its exposed arm bones. Merle observes this site for several minutes, fascinated by the tenacity of those undead fuckers. He abruptly snaps out of it when he realizes that their numbers growing, any undead wandering in the nearby vicinity are drawn to the cluster of their kind.

"Fuck!" he exclaims, knowing they must act soon if they have a chance at survival. He quickly surveys the tiny room to make sure he isn't forgetting anything of importance. Satisfied, he heads into the kitchen, shoves a couple water bottles into his pockets, and then grabs the few knives stored on the countertop. He curses their lack of firepower.

He hears footsteps behind him and swiftly turns around, only to see Mitch standing there. Her shirt and arms are drenched in blood, the knife she used held limply in her hand. Her eyes are stone cold, her face expressionless. "It's done…" she states in a tone one would use to recite the state capitols.

"Christ…" Merle mutters under his breath. If she wasn't damaged goods before, she sure as hell was now. Unexpectedly, Mitch yanks off her bloodied shirt, letting it limply fall to the ground. Merle stares at her naked form as she rummages through an armoire leaning against one of the living room's walls. Death might be knocking at their door, but a man with eyes always likes to look. However, it is not so much her body he is mesmerized by, but rather what she is doing with it. Her movements are precise, swift, yet stiff, almost robotic. He becomes transfixed as he watches her pull out several pieces of clothing from the wooden drawers, examining each with scrutiny, deciding what to wear. Nothing about his gaze is sexual. The look in his eyes is the same as when people watch contortionists bend and twist their bodies in ways not humanly possible, he wants to look away but he can't.

She abruptly turns toward Merle and stares, not so much at him but more so into him. He can feel her eyes boring into his soul and slowly, he lifts his gaze. She coolly glares into his own icy blues, "The medication… all of it. In the bathroom, behind the mirror… Grab it..." Her nudity forgotten in this moment as is Merle's usual unwillingness to take orders from others. He briskly walks past her naked form and into the bathroom. Away from her frigid, dead eyes and cold, monotone voice Merle is able to breathe once again. He didn't even realize he had been holding his breath.

"Holy fuck…" Merle swears under his breath as he pockets every last pill bottle and roll of gauze. He considers abandoning her right there and then but knows he isn't that cold-hearted of a monster to leave someone to become an undead smorgasbord. He shrugs his shoulders, knowing he could always ditch her along the road if she kept this freak-show act up. The way she was acting truly unnerved him, even more so than those walking corpses outside.

Merle exits the bathroom and practically tackles Mitch to the ground. "Fuck woman! Gotta watch where ya walk!" he grumbles as she steps aside.

"Sorry," she mumbles, her eyes having returned to their usual soft appearance, "I needed clothes… couldn't be running through the streets half-naked."

Merle sighs, feeling genuinely relieved that the woman he almost knocked over was the Mitch he first met and not the stone-cold bitch from a few minutes ago. She is now wearing a pair of black sweat pants that hug her curves and a dark purple tank-top covered by an oversized sweater. His eyes drift to her ample cleavage being accentuated by the neckline of her shirt. Mitch senses his stares as she subconsciously pulls up the zipper.

"Ya ready?" Merle questions as he slings the heavier backpack over his shoulder. Mitch meekly nods, grabbing her bag and strapping it to her back. Merle's hand is on the doorknob, ready to turn it to open up the next chapter of their lives when Mitch's hand, still drenched in Owen's blood, falls on his forearm.

"Just wait," Mitch utters as she runs back into the apartment and grabs something off the window sill in the kitchen. Merle believes it looked like a cell phone but he knew she wasn't stupid enough to think she'd be making calls anything soon. Before he can get a good look at the object, she slides it into her backpack. She nods, "Let's go… This place was always meant for death… Just didn't think I'd be losing…" Unable to finish, she simple stands there, looking blankly into her former home.

"Ain't got all day," Merle stares impatiently at her. Just as he is about to walk away from her for good, she turns around and steps out of the apartment, closing the door behind her.


	16. Chapter 16

**_Chapter Sixteen: Escape_**  
Merle gives Mitch a questioning look as she leads him up the stairs toward the roof. Sensing his hesitation she explains, "We can cross from this rooftop to the next... don't know how else to avoid those… things…"

He groans at the thought of being stuck on another roof, but follows willingly enough, knowing there is no other way. With the help of a discarded wooden plank, the two cross from one rooftop to the next. Merle briefly looks down and is tempted to yell obscenities at those stupid fucks who continue to scratch and claw at the building below, but knows it would be insanely stupid to draw attention their way. They slowly work down the back stairwell of the new building, extremely relieved to find it empty.

"That wasn't so bad," Mitch whispers. Merle shoots her a dirty look as he opens the metal door leading to the outside. Before he can tell her that things will only be getting worse, a creep missing half its face and upper torso lunges at him. Mitch gasps, shielding herself behind his solid body.

"Shit!" he exclaims as he stabs his knife through the thing's eye. It collapses before him but not before invading his nostrils with the putrid, rotting-meat smell perfuming the dead. He scowls and whips around, ready to bitch the bitch out for reacting so cowardly when she shoves him aside. "The fuck…" he utters as he watches Mitch stab her knife into the eye socket of another biter, much in the same fashion he had done seconds ago.

Mitch gags as she breathes in their odour, bringing her hand to her mouth in an attempt to stop the visceral reaction. She manages to swallow the bile that had come back up her throat. "Fuck… I thought I had seen it all working as a nurse… This is so bad… I didn't think…"

"An' its only gonna git worse darlin'," Merle drily states. He had forgotten she had been sheltered away from the true horror lurking these streets and realizes she was probably shell-shocked by it all. In light of that, he was impressed by the swiftness of her kill. Most people probably wouldn't have reacted as quickly and his fate would be the same as Owen, bleeding out from a neck wound. Mitch stares wide-eyed at the now dead undead. He puts his hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort, "Ya get used ta the smell."

Her earlier indiscretion already forgotten as they stealthily enter the back alley. The moon's light illuminates several more undead congregating at the end of the alley. Much to their relief, those ones are shuffling toward Mitch's former home in a desperation to join forces with the growing herd, among it the handful of corpses initially attracted by Owen's screams. He tugs on Mitch's hand, pulling her in the opposite direction, "Get ya ass in gear. We gotta run."

They spend the next several hours weaving through the city blocks, slowly working their way to the city's outer limits. The streets are cluttered with abandoned vehicles, rubble from demolished buildings, and innumerable corpses, some roaming and others down for the count. Even though they had left the apartment before sun rise, they had only travelled a dozen blocks before the sun was already on its way out. Their beginnings were slow, having only the moon to light their way through the obstacles. However, as the sun began to rise, their pace slowed to a crawl as they entered areas of the city not evacuated to the safe zones. They needed to circle around blocks and backtrack several times because of the herds. The two were exhausted. Mitch's emotional exhaustion from her uncles' deaths was catching up to her and Merle could see she was fading fast. He himself was growing exhausted, his body still recuperating from infection and loss of limb. They were working their way through one of the neighborhoods Merle frequented before the apocalypse started when they came across a building he knew well.

"We should spend the night here darlin'," Merle drawls as he tries the door. He smirks as he feels the door unlatch and pushes it open.

"Really? Here?" Mitch raises an eyebrow at him. Merle was initially worried that as the day wore on and they came across more geeks that needed killing, she would revert to that robotic shell he had encountered in the apartment. To both their surprise, she took to killing the undead like a true survivor, her knowledge of human anatomy served her well. He also knew that part of her strength came from anger as he watched her repeatedly stab into the skull of a roamer, long after it fell to its final death.

Merle shrugs as the two enter the building cautiously, "There ain't no windows and only two doors... Should be safe 'nough for the night once we clear it."

"Ugh," Mitch utters as the stench of stale beer, old cigarettes, sweat, and a hint of rotting eggs invade her nostrils.

"Shhhh," Merle hisses under his breath as he shuts the door behind them, "Don't go flappin' ya lips 'till we know what's in here."

"Sorry," Mitch mouths as the two begin searching the seemingly empty establishment.

The emergency lights still function but their battery power is fading fast as they flicker away, giving the building an even more ominous feel. Merle pulls a couple flashlights out of his backpack and shines the light around the room. Several of the tables and chairs surrounding the centre stage have been overturned and everything is coated in a fine layer of dust. Though the room is poorly illuminated, they can see several pools of what probably is blood, alerting Merle to remain on high guard. Otherwise, everything looks pretty much as Merle remembers it, minus all the horny drunken men waving their dollar bills at the half-naked women shaking it on stage that is. Merle shakes his head as he thinks of all the crazy nights he and Daryl spent ogling the strippers. He can't help but wonder what happened to them, especially Ruby, the busty red-head he spent hundreds of dollars on in the champagne room.

His thoughts are interrupted by Mitch's gasps, "Jesus Christ! Merle!"

He rushes over to her side and looks down at what caused her to react. Well that was one mystery solved, he thinks to himself as he stabs his knife through the tangled red hair, into the former stripper's decaying skull. He shakes his head at the sight of her half-eaten body, only tendrils of rotting flesh flow from what used to be her waist.

"Let me guess. One of your favourites?" Mitch laughs trying to lighten the mood, "I mean I don't blame you... Even in death she has great tits."

Merle can't help but smile. It was the first time Mitch showed any real emotion since leaving the apartment. However, his survival instincts dominate as he quickly glances around the main bar area. He is relieved that Mitch's outburst didn't stir any trouble. "Ya need ta be quiet. Don't know what's lurkin' 'round here. Ya gonna git us ambushed..." Merle growls in a whispered voice. He curses his temper as he watches Mitch's face drop. He knows she has had a hard enough day without him reaming her out again, so he adds with a wink, "Gotta clear house before the fun 'n games."

"Sorry... You want to check the back rooms while I finish this area... I'm sure you are familiar with all this place's nooks and crannies," Mitch says quietly, a hint of a smile on her face. Merle likes that she never stays upset at him for long and that she isn't afraid to tease him. Many of the other people he had encountered during his life were too afraid to bullshit with him, even though he always enjoyed sarcastic banter. Fuck, his own baby brother was too afraid to shoot the shit with him.

Merle nods as he tightens the grip on his knife and heads toward the back of the club where the bathrooms, change room, and offices are located. The bathrooms were both empty but Merle felt slightly disturbed at how dirty they were. He wonders if they were always that way or if he just never noticed since he was always fucked up when he frequented the place. The change room was also empty. However, he feels a slight stirring in his pants at the sight of all the skanky costumes hanging in the lockers. A smile creeps onto his face at the memories of his time spent here, the busty waitresses, the seductive dancing of the girls on stage, and more importantly, his time spent in the champagne room. The girls could dance and they could suck a guy off, always for a price though.

He quickly checks on Mitch before entering the back rooms and is relieved to see her looking around chairs and behind overturned tables, being thorough in her search. He walks down the back hallway and feels apprehensive at the sight of the emergency door hanging slightly ajar. He firmly closes it and bolts it shut. That feeling of unease felt in the pit of his stomach grows and the hairs on the back of his neck prickle as he hears an eerie scratching sound.

He has an overwhelming urge to rush back to Mitch and check on her, but he knows the longer he lets that thing make noise, the higher the chance of attracting more undead freaks. He busts open the first door and breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of long-forgotten brooms, mop pails, and cleaning supplies. As he nears the door marked "office, staff only" the sound intensifies and he is certain what is on the other side. An awful moaning now accompanies the scratching sound.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath as he tries the door knob only to find it locked. He takes a deep breath and is about to hammer the door down with his shoulder when he sees one of those emergency axes to be used in case of fire. He grabs the sharpened tool out of its box and attacks the doorknob with several precise swings. The door eventually creaks open. Merle's sense of smell is overpowered by the odour of death and decay as the undead ghoul shambles toward him. Merle recognizes the corpse to be that of Javier, the manager of the joint, by his tacky red suede suit. He swings the axe, this time smashing in the fuck's skull with a sickening thudding sound. He pushes the collapsed rotting corpse to the side as he enters the pungent smelling office.

Once he verifies that nothing else is hiding in the room, he begins searching the desk drawers. Being one of the club's favoured customers, he would often come back here and snort the good stuff with the higher ups. He had also spent some time in the slammer with a few of Javier's muscle men, which further helped his way in. Daryl never bothered to join the party back here, said he was happy to get blasted on booze. Merle slams his fist on the desk upon finding the drawers containing only the usual office things. It has been far too long since he last got wasted. While Mitch's drugs held him over, it just wasn't the same. As a compromise for not finding any coke, he swallows a couple pain pills from the bottle in his pocket.

Just as he is about to leave the office, he notices a note on the desk written by Javier, "Fuckers overran the joint. Locked myself in here. Off'd myself by using everything I had. At least I went out on a high note. Ha ha. Javier."

"Hmph," Merle grunts out loud. Asshole didn't have the decency to leave at least one hit. He then realizes that Javier was the second person to turn without being bit. As his mind works on piecing together that information, he chews on his thumb. Always helped him think. He wonders if he should mention something to Mitch as he walks back to where he last saw her. All thoughts come to a halt when he sees her sitting crossed-legged on the bar, bottle of Crown in one hand, shotgun in the other, and wearing nothing but a grin on her face.

"Jesus woman," Merle exclaims as he nears the nude woman. While he and his Dixon appreciated the seductive gesture, he thought she was incredibly stupid for stripping down when they hadn't secured the place. "What if a bunch of them fuckers were hidin' back there?"

"I guess I'd just have to fight them naked... That would be quite the sight," she bursts out into a fit of giggles, completely oblivious to the danger she could have gotten them in.

Merle slowly takes a big breath in through his nose in an attempt to calm his nerves. While he often made threats, he had never actually struck a woman, but this cunt just jeopardized his safety and chance of getting back to Daryl, "Ya wanna git us killed? Ya really turnin' inta a liability."

Mitch pouts, "Oh come on Merle. You're fine. I'm fine… I'm horny."

"Are ya fine?" Merle raises an eyebrow at her. First an ice-cold robot, now this? He scratches at his head, this woman maybe _was_ more than he could handle, "Ya did just go through a hella lot."

Mitch shrugs her shoulders and Merle can't help but notice the action causes her bare breasts to bounce, "I've always said everything happens for a reason. By the looks of everything... My uncles are better off dead," Suddenly her eyes glisten with tears and she hops off the countertop, rapidly tugging on her tank-top and pants, "I'm so fucking stupid," she mutters as she shoves her bras and panties into the backpack. She swallows a sob, "So fucking stupid… Fuck... To think we could wait it out up there. To think we'd be saved... Fuck... I think I'm more upset that I'm alive than anything... I didn't think it was like this… I didn't think the whole world was… fucked…" She bows her head down, unable to look Merle in the eyes, as she takes a long drawn-out swig from the whisky bottle before slamming it down on the bar. He notices tears are threatening to make an appearance but Mitch fights them back with a swipe of her hand across her face.

For the first time Merle feels pity for the woman. He would never know what it would be like to be sheltered for so long then to get thrust into the middle of hell, after losing the only family she had too. Sometimes he forgot that not everyone was a fighter, not everyone had the training and survivalist background he did. The things they had seen and done as they fought their way through the streets and alleys of Atlanta before arriving at this building were enough to drive someone insane. Sure, she had flinched at the sight of the first mass of rotting flesh they had come across but she had never hesitated to kill one. She had also taken care of Owen in stride, something he was sure would be difficult for most people. She knew what had to be done. However unlikely, she was a survivor. He decides then and there that he will keep her safe. A life for a life.

Merle wraps his stump arm around her shoulders, grabbing the rifle from her shaking hands. She looks up at him, red-rimmed almost green eyes and a perplexed look on her face from the sudden display of affection. He eyeballs the gun, "Where ya find it?"

"Under the bar. Used to waitress at a divvy bar kind of like this, wasn't a strip club but had the same kind of feel. Owner always kept a gun under the ledge by the register in case of… well for extra protection," she says quietly, still trying to regain her composure after the outburst.

"Com'on," Merle smirks down at her as he leads her toward a curtained-off staircase, "We got one more room ta clear."


End file.
